Anonymous Diary

By B C K Iyengar

The story revolves around a lighthearted, friendly, and lovable young man who has the habit of recording his life in a diary. The story runs in three phases. In the first phase, the young man writes about his routine at the office, family at his hometown, and friends. In the second phase, he happens to meet a girl, Sangeetha, through his colleague, Gracy. This part is naturally lively. The third phase is charged with the emotions and the trauma he undergoes after he is diagnosed positive for abdominal cancer. The characters easily bond themselves with the reader for their simplicity. They are down-to-earth and humane in nature. The readers can identify and relate to the characters in the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Feb 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482815306

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by B C K IYENGAR.

ISBN:   Hardcover     978-1-4828-1529-0

               Softcover     978-1-4828-1528-3

Ebook           978-1-4828-1530-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

To order additional copies of this book, contact

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

[e-mail]

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THE ANONYMOUS DIARY

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I thank my brother B C S Iyengar for the sustained encouragement ever since I took to writing, starting with stage plays. I thank Dr. B N Vishwanath who instilled confidence in me when I started writing and without whose good and warm wishes I would have remained as a one book author. I thank Dr. Vivek Haldipur for his valuable suggestions which made some narrations in the book appear more authentic. I thank Ms. M J Padmini, for her kind help in preparing the digital version of the manuscripts. I thank my son Deepu Iyengar for his concerted efforts to get my book published.

THE ANONYMOUS DIARY

I t was a Sunday morning. Like all Sundays, I woke up a bit late. This Sunday, like all Sundays, was no different and I did not refrain Raja mill’s siren from blaring to the full tune. Though I woke up at 5.15 am, I did not feel like getting out of bed. A Sunday coming after six days of hard work and mechanical routine is a precious twenty four hours to be lazy, leisurely allowing us to open the wings and fly freely. I pulled over the blanket and tucked inside. The effort to go into the slumber again failed. It only made my eyes red. I felt it was of no use making further effort to sleep and dream. I got up from the bed and lighted a cigarette. It has been impossible to sit in the common toilet without a cigarette. When I am in the toilet I think of shifting my residence to a better accommodation where at least an attached bath room is available. This thought will last till I leave the common toilet. It has been over eight years like this, and I have been living in a crowded, unclean cattle-shed like place.

By the time I came out of the toilet, Narayana Udupa, a neighbour was already in my room, stretching himself on the easy chair with the daily news paper, in his hands. The way he was relaxing, I wondered whether it was my room. He was deeply engrossed in reading which was routine. I went to the bath room to brush my teeth and wash my face.

By the time, I came out of the bath room, Udupa had left the house. Good heavens; he left early lest he would give a discourse on what all he read from proceedings in Vidhana Soudha to raising price of beetle leaf in the market.

I dressed up and walked towards Janatha Hotel, a popular restaurant in Malleshwaram. I sat at a place where I usually used to. Very few people were there since it was only seven in the morning. They were into eating idli-sambar or drinking filter coffee.

Madhava Pai, the bearer brought a cup of coffee for me. I saw him looking into the last page of the newspaper I was holding. Perhaps he was reading about cricketer Srikanth’s spectacular swashbuckling innings. I gave the paper to him and picked the coffee cup.

How was his innings Sir? Pai threw the expected question.

Ekdam bombat, simply great I replied and looked at his face for his reaction.

My answer made him extremely happy since he was a fan of Srikanth.

I picked the bill after I finished drinking coffee, paid the money at the cash counter and left the hotel. I slowly started walking on the pavement after lighting a cigarette at the paan shop.

I saw at a distance a hawker spreading second hand books on pavement for sale. I was really surprised because only two classes of people start their business at early hours—they are the hoteliers and barbers. And, now, this fellow is an exception. I hurried towards him and started looking towards the books he was spreading and arranging in a manner all hawkers usually do.

These books were no different from the books usually sold on the pavement. They were books on Kamashastra, Health, Yoga, Palmistry, Astrology, Numerology, Pakashastra (cooking) books written by Hadley Chase, Sunil Gavaskar, E.A.S. Prasanna, books on collection of old film songs etc. etc.

The hawker still was continuing his job of arranging the books. I could not keep my eyes off from a book he took out from his gunny bag. I picked it no sooner than he put it on the canvas sheet. It was a very very expensive diary. I wondered how somebody’s diary could find a place alongside other books. First of all how did it come for sale? God only knows.

Well, why should I worry about that? Mechanically I ran through the pages. That one page in the diary made me read those lines.

H ow I wish if every single day had been like this day. If they were like this, I would not have been here sitting like this scribbling in the diary. When I get depressed, get bored or rarely when I am cheerful, I feel like scribbling like this. Yes, I must say, I am the happiest man in the world today ‘Sangeetha was looking so cute and attractive, was not she? Yes a double yes. She was looking beautiful in the maroon colour tops on beige colour jean pants. The dress she wore suited her very well… . yes, very well… . very well… .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -