Thank you!

I had only met her recently and I have not had many conversations with her. I am many years older than her and I am considered more experienced than her in the orgranization. As a result, I think, she had no choice but to listen to my rants and thoughts politely. Invariably our conversations or to be precise, my soliloquy, ended abruptly and we parted ways promising to continue at a later point of time. But that time never came. 

At some point of time, I informed her about my blog. This one. Over the next few days, I realized that she read my posts regularly. I believe she is only the second person who tracks my blogs without my prompting. At times, she talked to me about my writings. Though I try to not think about the small size of my audience, when I write, it always feels good when people utter a few kind words about my writings. Over the past few days, I have not made many entries to this blog as the horses in control of driving my life have been pulling me in different directions. To save myself, I have built a fort around me. These days, I sit within my fort firmly and maintain minimum contact with the world outside. So, writing blogs were not on top of my agenda.

A day before the Christmas break, she walked up to me with a book in her hand. She handed it to me and said "this is for you". I looked at it confused. It was a grey journal book with an elastic band around it. I did not understand what it was and why she was giving it to me. She identified the confusion and said "This is for you. I hope you write a lot more." I realized that she was gifting me the book. I felt a range of feelings run through me. I did not know what to say. For the past many years, I have only received a few gifts. So, I was not sure how to react. I held the book firmly in my hand and thanked her like an American "Hey. Thanks a bunch. I appreciate your thought. Thanks". I walked back to my place and looked at the book again. I felt traces of tears form in my eyes. I held them back. I opened the book and saw a small Post-it note stuck on the first page. It said.
"Happy New Year to you. Write it GVK! Write a lot ... :) Best Wishes ..."

I closed the book shut and stared out of the window. I firmly held back the tears that were ready to flow out of my tear glands. I pushed the book into my bag and walked away. That evening, when I got home, I took the book out of my bag and placed it in a cupboard. I had plans to use it but not at the present moment. I needed more time.

This evening, when I opened the cupboard to take out a physics textbook, I saw the grey journal book lying above it. I felt a heaviness in my heart. Gifts have always confused me. At times, I yearn to recieve one and yet when I receive it, I wonder if I deserved it. As I looked at the grey journal, I realized that this was the first award that I received for my writing. I felt honoured!

I have received many other gifts in my life and I cherish all of them but this one means a lot to me because it is associated with my writing, which I see as my only companion during the last days of my life.