About My Diary, Meri Bhavya Lekh
Meri Bhavya Lekh—this is the name I have given to my diary. Within these pages, I pour my thoughts and experiences not as mere entries, but as articles, short stories, poems, and conversations. Each word is a small act of creation, each sentence a quiet rebellion against silence.
I decided to write only after I had finished reading the diary of a little Jewish girl—Anne Frank. She wrote her story while hidden away in a secret annex, tucked inside a building with her family for more than two years. She was barely thirteen years old when she began. And yet, even in those horrifying circumstances—living on limited resources, breathing in constant fear of being discovered and sent to a concentration camp where so many of her people perished—she wrote. She hoped. She spoke to her diary as if it were a friend. That little girl became my inspiration.
Because I, too, was going through something terrible. Something heart-shattering. Something I had never expected. A vast and restless urge was building inside me—an urgency to pour my emotions into someone I could truly trust. And so I found my diary. The most faithful confidant. The silent listener who never turns away.
Anne Frank addressed her diary as “Kitty.” In the same tender spirit, I have given my invisible listener a name too. I call her my “precious angel.”
I am writing this diary with a quiet, stubborn hope: that those who are suffering—those who have locked themselves inside imaginary dark rooms—will find a single ray of sunlight through one tiny hole. That hole is my writing. That sunlight is these words.
And I hope, too, that my writings will one day travel far enough—deep enough—to reach the heart of that precious angel. The one I am speaking to through every page of Meri Bhavya Lekh.
