My Telephone - Diary

Once in two neat columns it tried to arrange my life.

On the left – Names.

On the right – Numbers

And in between scribbled letters which were meant to be addresses.

A shade of brightest blue,

A laminated cover on which still were written

In my signature ‘Vines and Strokes’ writing

Three harmless words-

My Telephone Diary.

How every new name and number brought thrill,

of growing popularity.....fun .......and much more.....

To ring up and speak in an unsure voice to some strict uncle...

or, at times, to ‘ Living -Questionnaires’. .....

Gave us reason to sulk.....and laugh......and complain....sometimes.

And as familiarity emerged at the other end in another overjoyed tone

of an eleven year old.....

Peace prevailed....time flew....innocence giggled in hushed tones.

At times when school was either lost in the heat of May

or drowned in festive drum-beats of para-pujos.

We shared life back then.

In small sachets of secret jokes and harmless jabs...

......conveyed in codes of 1s and 0s....over distances

which sounded unending and places obscure.

Now.....lost in the race to nowhere...

We have lost touch.

Love ?

I hope to believe not.

My diary doesn’t look its self now...

Tattered at places...

Torn into pieces

It looks at me with studied anticipation

And a knowing acceptance.

Giving the smudged letters a final glance I put it back...

to where it belongs now..

- The back drawers of my old, wooden closet.

Along with my nursery rhymes and frayed pencils and crayons

It will have good company there.

So I hope to believe.

The faded blue of it reminds me of a childhood-

Now I choose to make a relic.

Only an occasional reminder of

Who I am.

It serves its purpose every few years..

while the entire house gets cleaned...or painted.

Memories pound my veins now...

And as I push in the dreary drawer..

With a defeated sigh My Telephone Diary bids goodbye..

to things it meant to me ....once.

Who remembers these days ?

I move onto the next drawer.