It was nearly fifteen days since Vibha had passed away. One afternoon, post lunch, Vishal entered his room for his mid-day nap. A thought struck him and he went to open the cupboard. Taking her keys, Vishal unlocked Vibha’s personal drawer. Inside he found some saved up money, a few neatly folded papers and a diary. He remembered asking her many times,
“What do you keep pouring so much in that diary of yours? At least let me read it sometimes.”
And Vibha’s instant reaction would be,
“No chance! You can see it only after my death.”
Reminiscing their conversation, he took the diary and settle down on the bed to read it. Many aspects of their lives were recorded by her, since they had been married. Joyful moments, sorrowful times and a lot more. Her descriptions were so vivid that he could actually visualise those days in front of his eyes, all over again.
Flipping over, Vishal came to the last page. Surprisingly, it was written five years ago. It said,
“I hate myself. All along I’ve been betraying a man who has been extremely sincere and loyal to me. He still thinks that our baby was born in the seventh month and thinks it’s his. I’ll never have the courage to tell him that my so called relatives, my supposed to be well-wishers ruined my life and the punishment of who’s doings, my family and I are still paying for.”
The scribbled handwriting was a proof of her shrivelled insides and tearful eyes when she had poured her heart out in this diary. Taking a deep sigh, Vishal closed his late wife’s memoir. With intentions to forgive his departed wife for this confidential information, he stood up with the diary clutched under his arm.
Written by: Jagruti Kaila
Translated by: Shamim Merchant