The Two Diaries
(A Short Story on Love, Marriage, and Understanding)
After years of bustling routines, lone nights, boring day-times and quiet dinners, they finally sat together — the husband and the wife — sharing a cup of coffee. The occasion was special: their 30th wedding anniversary.
It had been a long time since they had spent such a peaceful moment together. Life had become a carousel of responsibilities, accountabilities of chasing meaningless goals (what is meaningful is yet to be identified is a different question though) and somewhere amidst the chaos, their closeness is progressively getting faded.
The silence between them that day wasn’t uncomfortable — just unfamiliar. Breaking it softly, the wife looked at her husband and said,
“There’s so much I want to tell you. These days, we hardly find time to sit together like this.”
He lifted his head from the phone and looked at her, "hmmm..?"
"that's it! you are hardly present at home. despite being physically present, you are mentally absent most of the time. you never listen to me let alone heeding my advices. you are addicted to this screen..."
"Who is not? all of us are... either to this phone screen or laptop screen or TV screen or the projector screen or the movie screen..."
Thank God, both of us are not addicted to the movie screen at the least..."
"You were saying something..."
She took a breath and continued,
“I’ve been thinking a lot… and I’ve found a way we might reconnect. If you agree, I’ll tell you.”
He nodded.
She walked to a shelf and returned with two simple diaries. Placing them on the table, she explained,
“One for you, one for me. From now on, whenever something bothers us — even the smallest thing — let’s write it in our own diary. No arguments, no resentment. Just write it down.”
after a pause, she continued....
“And exactly a year from now, on our next anniversary, we’ll open these diaries together. We’ll read, reflect, and try to understand each other better.”
The husband smiled at the thought. It was practical — and personal.
And so began a quiet ritual of writing.
A Year Later...
Their 31st anniversary arrived. As planned, they sat together again, this time with coffee again — and with their diaries.
They exchanged books and began to read.
The husband opened his wife’s diary first. Each page held little grievances, thoughtful reflections, and moments she had tucked away in silence:
-
“Its more than 3 months now, we have not gone out for dinner, i gave hints but you ignored...”
-
“you hardly visit my place and even they come you hardly spend time with them. Last week my relatives were here but you hardly participated in the conversations.”
-
“you never buy me sarees, you did this time but pity that even after 30 years you did not know which colour i like and which one i dislike. I am forced to keep this oil-soaked-green-coloured saree just because you bought it..."
“I was watching my favourite show and you didn't even bother to ask me before changing the channels...”
-
“You left your wet towel on the bed again and this is becoming regular nowadays...”
As he read each line, tears filled his eyes. They weren’t just complaints — they were emotional footprints of all the times he hadn’t noticed her disappointment. He looked at her and said with sincerity,
“I didn’t realise these things meant so much to you. But I do now. I truly do. I’ll make sure to attempt that I don’t repeat them.”
The wife then opened his diary, eager yet curious. She flipped through the pages. Nothing. Blank. Surprised, she looked up,
“You didn’t write anything?”
He gently replied,
"Nope. I did... flip through... you might get it.." and submerged himself onto his laptop.
She did, there, in his handwriting, were just a few lines — enough to silence a hundred complaints:
“You came into my life, trusting me in full, leaving the home where you grew up for 25 years. You adapted to the totally different environment, atmosphere, behaviours, likes & dislikes - all these after 25 years of conditioning yourself differently.
You quit your job, because i said. you learnt cooking and handled that department so we can take care of our official responsibilities.
Despite being new to the location, you learnt how to navigate here and di all the household chores.
For all these years, you’ve loved me and my family selflessly. You’ve stood by me, made little but genuine sacrifices, and made countless invisible efforts.
I couldn’t bring myself to write a single complaint against you. Not because you’re flawless — but because your love & sacrifices overshadows all imperfections.
You’ve been beside me like a shadow through every season.And how can I ever find fault in my own shadow?”
While she was reading, he started visualising the scenario of the outcome. "Tears streamed down her face. In silence, she reached for her diary — the one filled with complaints — tore it up, and thew them in the trash bin. No more words were needed"
She completed the reading. Closed the book folding the sides. Stood up. He was eager to have her response and was staring at her with a question in his eyes. She said,
"you are too lazy to write anything, you couldn't find a single flaw in me. Just to cover-up your failure, you came with this lousy filmi dialogue. You cant even think of these words on your own and you have borrowed them. This is what i want to ask. When will you change?"
He plunged his head and eyes into the small screen again listening to her and yet not listening.....
