It was just another morning. Ananya gets up in the morning, she sits on the edge of her bed and gazes out of the window constantly caressing her hair. As a daily morning ritual she hunts for her phone to check her blog stats and then abruptly she recollects the moment when she fell asleep. It was 3 a. m. and she was logged in on her wordpress account, pretty content with what she had just written- reading and re-reading the piece- basking in the glory of her fairly good penmanship, no penwomanship (if it’s a word). And just then she fell asleep, logged in on her brother’s laptop, leaving her blog window wide open for him to see. She thinks hard if it was a dream or she actually did something so despicably foolish. Six months of misery-using chrome in ‘in cognito mode’, sitting down to write once after her family has slept and not uttering a single word bearing a connection with blog/wordpress- all for this day when her freelance writer brother who apparently can weave words together like beads in a string has access to her blog. Yes she has never been quite open about her feelings, not even with her family and she has time and again resorted to blogging to lift the weight off her shoulders but what is the point now when her ‘wiser than thou’ brother has read it all- her obsession with television, her discontent with life, her ‘not so pleasing’ opinions about marriage and her slightly lower self worth.
Instantly she turns back to face her brother and gives him an intent look. He meets her eye, smiles and says “Good Morning”.
She give him a halfhearted smile and thinks, “So he is going to act like nothing happened at all, wait for me to bring up the topic and once I do that he is going to mock my writing style or that little something I scrawled about irresponsible journalism in our country, saying how I was trying to feign intellectualism and eventually grilling me deep on that. Only when those tears well up in my eyes, then he will quit, apologize and make it up to me. Yet he will never resist from bringing up the blog time and again to pull my leg.”
Its not like he is a mean brother or that he is not supportive but what scares her is his incorrigibly sardonic wit- something which has often led to disheartening conversations.
She gets up from the bed and decides to let things be. But then she is curious to know his opinion and her helplessness is driving her crazy. She engages herself into her daily activities but nothing helps her suppress the anxiety.
Some fine three hours later- of pacing up and down in the balcony, imagining fictitious conversations adorned with his sarcastic remarks and thinking if she could ever switch off her brain- her brother is leaving for some work and as she stands on the door to see him off, he kisses her on the cheek and says, “By the way, I never knew you could write so well, some brilliant posts you have got there on your blog. Makes me feel proud.”
As the words sink in, she has trouble believing what she just heard. She smiles, glad that her brother liked her writing and how stupidly she was imagining quite the contrary. So much of trouble and mindless thinking for what? Perhaps for keeping her aloof from his appreciation and she immediately pens down a piece about the same concluding with a quote, ‘Life is what happens to us when we are busy making other plans’.
P.S. Honestly, when I started this blog a month ago I did not want anybody I know, to read it. Precisely because I had doubts if I will be able to pen down posts worth reading but I have had my own share of surprises.