"Dear Diary, I’m Back—But With a Blog"

All writers have their origin story. Mine begins with a colour printer, a teenage crush on Daniel Radcliffe, and a diary that meets a fiery end. It was dramatic, to say the least. I liked the idea of having a Diary and envisioned myself lying down on my bed after a long day of hectic teenage years and writing “Dear Diary” while pouring my heart out to it and signing off with “That’s all for today; I’ll see you tomorrow. Love Anamika”. (Cue the eye roll at my typical teenager self). You see, I was heavily influenced by Lizzie Maguire, the TV series, various pop shows in the early 2000s and my Amma’s romance novels that I used to steal and read. I wanted to be seen as cool and be “in” on the latest trends. I now cringe thinking about what I wrote in my diary and how I cut out pictures of my movie crushes and stuck them in my diary. Incidentally, around this time, Appa brought home a colour printer, and Amma strictly watched what we printed. But I had my ways of sneaking the prints and must have printed over 200 colours of A4 Posters. It was essential to have posters of Daniel Radcliffe, Robert Pattinson, Tom Felton (I was a crazy Harry Potter fan), and Hillary Duff to put up in my room and stick the cut-outs in my diary. (Don’t judge me; I bet you’ve had moments where you cringe at your teenage antics, too). 

However, my dreams of “Dear Diary” dealt with an untimely demise when my pesky younger sisters read my diary and threatened to spill the contents of the diary on my family. For the 14-year-old me, this was akin to the world ending. (You see, my family is large, rambunctious and always into each other's business; we are a fun lot). So, in a theatrical fashion, I burnt my diary. Picture this: a 14-year-old me, tears streaming down my face, standing before a bonfire in my Ammama’s front yard. It was late at night, and I was tearing pages from my diary, watching them curl into flames. My sisters provided the soundtrack—giggling uncontrollably at my theatrics. Oh, the drama! Maybe I should have pursued a career in acting.  Although my diary met a fiery end, my flair for drama—and writing—was far from over. A few years later, my friends and I channelled all that teenage angst into something new: writing our own romantic novel. We were convinced it was the first step toward literary stardom.

When I was in 11th & 12th grade, my two best friends and I decided that we would become best-selling authors. Fueled by an overdose of Mills & Boons, we decided to write a romantic novel starring none other than ourselves. ( That part of my life is another story for another day) We would take turns each writing a chapter during our Physics, Chemistry and English classes. (We could never dare to try this in Math class). Unfortunately, our hopes of becoming the NY Times Best-Selling authors remained unfulfilled because I misplaced the book after school. We lost all hope of finding the book until the book resurfaced after almost 15 years. I got to read snippets of it and let's just say I am glad my writing didn't see the light of day. My amma and my sister had the time of their lives reading the book and sending me snippets. (I am glad they could laugh at my expense :P) I think even the universe couldn't handle our literary masterpiece, so the book was lost again. My friends and I have to put our dream of publishing that book on hold again. 

I tried my hand at writing again in earnest when I started teaching in 2018. During the Teach For India Fellowship, while teaching 2nd and 3rd graders, I fell in love with writing again. I started by writing one question a day and then slowly began to maintain a log of all the antics of my students in the class. As the year progressed, my journal began to be filled with funny anecdotes, reflections from teaching, and small souvenirs I had collected. I had documented snippets of my life in the colourful journal, just like a photo album. This excited me, and I decided that I would create a journal for every year. And I began to write for myself. I wrote when sad, happy, confused, angry, or wanted clarity.

Over the years, my writing style has changed and become more experimental. I must thank my trusty friend Pinterest for being my constant companion and inspiring me with ideas to write and reflect on. I now have seven journals in various shapes and sizes, overflowing with stories, colours, and snapshots from the seven years of my life. Every few months, I reread my journals and look back at how marvellous my life has been. Every time, I am filled with humility, love, and gratitude for the people around me.

And so this year is yet another experiment. This year is about writing and putting together my reflections as a blog. This blog is my love letter to life, my friends, and my family. It's an attempt to capture snapshots of my life. This is me, sharing myself with vulnerability and love. In a way, it’s also a grown-up version of a “Dear Diary” ( Deep down, I’m still the pop culture referencing sappy romantic). I hope reading my blog gives you as much joy, laughter and delight as I do writing it. Here’s to experiencing life in all its glory this year. Let's get this show on the road. I would love for you to join me on this journey!