van_89
Who's He?
Mia had barely returned home after her journey, when she desperately started hunting for something in the drawers of what was her desk till last year. On my asking what she was rummaging, she would hastily reply- "Nothing". Ultimately she gave up what seemed to be a Herculean task. Being her younger sister, I found it difficult to fathom that she was withholding something from me. I always believed that she shared everything with me- to the minutest detail.
But I was wrong. Her diary understood her the best! And I only discovered this when I unearthed it from under a heap of her old books the very next day, while she was out with friends. It was the most colorful and classy spiral-bound book I'd ever seen. The fact that its cover was so eye- catching aroused my curiosity. I opened it and read every word! When Mia reached home, she saw it lying on top of the desk. Pokerfaced, I pretended as though I had nothing to do with it.
But she very well knew that I did. That very night, opportunely for us, our parents went for a wedding, which both of us plainly declined to attend. That was when Mia had promised to answer all my questions related to her entries. What intrigued me most were her innumerable references to a ˜Him' in her writings. Chuckling when I asked her who ˜He' is, she replied; "I'll answer that last."
"Okay," I told her, "then how come I never knew that you wrote a diary?" To that she said, "I was always unsure whether you would ever understand or like what I wrote. I even wanted to tell Mom and Dad about this." Taken aback, I exclaimed- "What! You'll tell them about ˜Him' too?"
"Of course. In fact they already know who ˜He' is and love him- you do too. It's not like I have to introduce ˜Him' to you." I was getting more and more restless- "Alright, Mimi. I'll be honest. I'm only ten- almost eight years younger than you. I cannot understand most of what you write. What I could guess after reading your entries was that most of it is poetry- because it rhymes." By that time, Mia was in splits.
"Oh, how could I even expect you to know? Well, the ˜Him' in my poems is God. One always refers to Him with a capital H. You'll probably learn this at school in a year or two." After this, she told me why she was hassled when she couldn't find the diary. On returning to University after the break, one of her professor's publisher friends wanted to create a compilation of spiritual poems written by teenagers.
Today, ten years later, Mia is an established writer-poet. Needless to say, her work got noticed right after those poems got published. And I still struggle to understand her profound work!
Mia had barely returned home after her journey, when she desperately started hunting for something in the drawers of what was her desk till last year. On my asking what she was rummaging, she would hastily reply- "Nothing". Ultimately she gave up what seemed to be a Herculean task. Being her younger sister, I found it difficult to fathom that she was withholding something from me. I always believed that she shared everything with me- to the minutest detail.
But I was wrong. Her diary understood her the best! And I only discovered this when I unearthed it from under a heap of her old books the very next day, while she was out with friends. It was the most colorful and classy spiral-bound book I'd ever seen. The fact that its cover was so eye- catching aroused my curiosity. I opened it and read every word! When Mia reached home, she saw it lying on top of the desk. Pokerfaced, I pretended as though I had nothing to do with it.
But she very well knew that I did. That very night, opportunely for us, our parents went for a wedding, which both of us plainly declined to attend. That was when Mia had promised to answer all my questions related to her entries. What intrigued me most were her innumerable references to a ˜Him' in her writings. Chuckling when I asked her who ˜He' is, she replied; "I'll answer that last."
"Okay," I told her, "then how come I never knew that you wrote a diary?" To that she said, "I was always unsure whether you would ever understand or like what I wrote. I even wanted to tell Mom and Dad about this." Taken aback, I exclaimed- "What! You'll tell them about ˜Him' too?"
"Of course. In fact they already know who ˜He' is and love him- you do too. It's not like I have to introduce ˜Him' to you." I was getting more and more restless- "Alright, Mimi. I'll be honest. I'm only ten- almost eight years younger than you. I cannot understand most of what you write. What I could guess after reading your entries was that most of it is poetry- because it rhymes." By that time, Mia was in splits.
"Oh, how could I even expect you to know? Well, the ˜Him' in my poems is God. One always refers to Him with a capital H. You'll probably learn this at school in a year or two." After this, she told me why she was hassled when she couldn't find the diary. On returning to University after the break, one of her professor's publisher friends wanted to create a compilation of spiritual poems written by teenagers.
Today, ten years later, Mia is an established writer-poet. Needless to say, her work got noticed right after those poems got published. And I still struggle to understand her profound work!