Diaries have broadly been alien to me. I had no white one where I would post a daily entry nor a black one which I could fall back on to chase solitude or heal heartbreak.
The only diaries I had encountered were Dairy Diaries that my wife used to collect as they were fine specimens of good design and featured some amazing recipes. While she had half a dozen of these annually released delights, they were all blank. I never asked her why, but I think she wanted to preserve them in their pristine
condition and secondly if she wrote her thoughts in them she would be unable to share them with friends and colleagues.
More recently I stumbled upon moleskin diaries on passions like wine and obsessions like dogs and babies. They were even more exquisitely designed. While they made perfect gifts for friends they never enticed me to start one. Might be because by then Zuckerberg had suckered me to express myself through posts and updates.
If I couldn’t resist Zuckerberg, how could I resist a request from Kay to write a diary for KDY. The invitation was an honour, but the fact that they want me to post daily entries from Goa, makes me smell a rat. I strongly suspect that it’s a conspiracy hatched by him and Rajesh to keep me away from the merry making and the nocturnal activities that they can’t partake in as they are saddled with yatra responsibilities.
But if they thought they had reined me in, they better think again. I am rolling my sleeves and sharpening my multitasking skills and hopefully shall turn the tables. What turned them green post conference over a drink, they shall now read at the crack of dawn.
Along with the stimulation that speakers dish out from the stage, expect to read about what they dish out under influence and how the yatris let their hair down creatively. Don’t blame me if my daily entries read like TED meets Goafest.
Hope these two competent adversaries have chosen a wardrobe that compliments green. Because envy is round the corner and I hope to introduce them to it every single day.