As I saved one more Whatsapp gem to my folder today, I was reminded of my years as a teen when I had a diary in which I would write down quotes and proverbs that I found here and there. I copied them religiously, understanding whatever I could of them as a child/adolescent, and gleaned nuggets of knowledge from them. I never let them be consigned to quick oblivion and even exchanged them animatedly with cousins and friends who shared the interest.
One of the most interesting quotes I can remember from those times is, “A mosquito flies amidst clapping hands” or something like that. I found it curious and humourous then, but today, I can spend hours reflecting on its import. It resonates more with me as an adult now than it would have at that point when life’s vagaries were still unknown and proverbs evinced only a juvenile interest, like philately did.
In the flurry of forwards that I receive every day, many a profound word is lost, and saving the images to the gallery isn’t doing me any favour. I rarely go back to read them, and weighed down by their enormity when the phone begins to lag, I delete them in a flash of frustration.
But now as I hark back to my diary days with supple nostalgia lacing it, I plan to write by hand and preserve the lines that come by and add a dash of colour to a dreary day. And may be, create a scrap book of inspiration to browse and smile when I am gadget-worn.
It will remind me that I cannot grow too vain to value words that speak to me from the sidelines, I cannot get too loud to listen to language that edifies from between the lines, and too self-assured to accept souvenirs of good thought from elsewhere. It will remind me that I haven’t become erudite and enlightened enough. I will travel back in time and find myself growing up all over again. Perhaps, this time a tad bit reflective and rational in character than I was then.