When I was in class 6, we had a weekly library period where we could pick any book to read. Simple, right? Well, not for me. The shelves were stacked with fiction books filled with words that looked like hieroglyphics to my young brain. I struggled to make sense of them, and honestly, I felt like a lost tourist in a foreign land. Desperate for a solution, I approached my librarian and poured out my book-related woes. She listened, nodded wisely, and handed me a few books she thought I would understand. And guess what? I actually did! That was the turning point in my reading journey, though at the time, I had no idea it would become a lifelong love affair. I don’t even remember her name now (sorry, ma’am!), but she always picked books for me, and I devoured them. That’s how reading became my hobby! From my grade 6 struggles to now, I’ve evolved into a much more mature reader. Just like my diary has been my best friend , books have been my ride-or-die companions, and I never miss a chanc...
Journaling has been an inseparable part of my life for over 20 years—almost as natural as brushing my teeth or taking a bath. It’s more than just a habit; it has become an obsession. Every day, I capture my thoughts, emotions, and moments, pouring them into the pages of my diary like an old friend who never judges. Growing up, I was an average student, often overlooked in school and college. My parents weren’t the most supportive, and humiliation became a constant companion, especially in front of family, friends, and neighbours. But amidst all of this, my diary remained my refuge, my safe space, and my most loyal friend. During my school and college days, my diary listened when no one else would. It never ridiculed or belittled me. It saw my laughter, my tears, my struggles—it even stopped me from making drastic decisions at times. If not for my diary, I don't know how I would have survived those years. Reliving the Past Through Old Journals Back then, my diary held stories of joy...