"Lost and Found: The Story Within the Pages".

Thursday, 9 January 2025

01:37 AM

Today started at 9 AM, and by 3:40 PM, I’d already conquered three chapters of Partnership. It felt like my most productive study session this week. Later, after coaching, I finally sat down to bind all my accounts notes—a small victory, but one that gave me a strange sense of order amidst the chaos of studies.

But the real highlight of the day came from a question my old friend asked on a call: “Why are you writing all this down?”

I paused, then replied:

"Every day we wake up is the start of a new story. Think about it: someone, somewhere, might be living their last day, wishing for just one more moment of life—maybe even something as simple as a final sip of coffee that I enjoy in the mornings.

Every unclear task, every little moment we experience, might seem meaningless to us, but it could have been someone else’s dream. 

That’s why I WRITE. 

To capture these stories, these acts, this unplanned sequence of life. Every person I meet, every conversation I have, becomes a part of my story—a story I’ll tell this world."

There was silence on the other end, no response. 

I threw  a "HELLO?"

Then my friend said, “Bhai, You’ve changed, You've grown up.”

And I think I have, the past year made me more ME, that fortunate meeting with her, made me, MOON-GAZER WITH THOUGHTS.

After the call, I went looking for my account book and realized it was missing. Frustrated, I went to my desk to retrace my steps. That’s when it happened.

At first, I thought it was a prank- But curiosity drove me out of my room, backtracking through my day. I checked my coaching bag, the books I’d bound earlier, and even the kitchen counter where I’d had coffee. NOTHING.

Finally, I decided to give up. As I sat back at my desk, staring at the watch dial, something caught my eye, my old book shelf, that I had installed above my bed, after the shift.

It clicked. I hurried to the corner of my room, where my notebooks and journals were stacked. Hidden behind the last binder, I found my accounts book, along with an old diary I thought I’d lost years ago.

Flipping through its pages, I was encountered to another version of myself—a younger, more naive me who wrote his stories but never believed they’d matter, so never shared.

Tonight, as I sit here writing this, I can’t help but smile. Maybe the account book wasn’t LOST.

 Maybe it was just waiting for me to find more than what I was looking for.

THE UNPLANNED CALL AND THAT QUESTION, MADE ME THINK OF BEING GRATEFUL FOR THIS LIFE.

Signing off with eagerness to see what happens next in this unknown book of life, and chapters which I live...

-Aksh