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DEAR DIARY - 2
6th April 2019,
Wednesday.
Dear diary,
Today feels like a vivid painting in my heart, dear Munni; every brushstroke carrying hope, curiosity, and just a hint of restlessness. It’s Ugadi, the festival that reminds us to embrace the sweetness, bitterness, and tang of life. The day started with rituals and prayers, and I wore the saffron cotton kurti with a yellow churidar; dad’s choice. Strange how I wasn’t sure about it initially, but as the sunlight poured through the temple arches, I felt radiant, almost as if the dress reflected the festive spirit.
The hours slipped by in a flurry of prayers, the aroma of freshly cooked food, and family chatter. By evening, the house had quieted down, the golden light of the setting sun spilling through the windows, painting the walls in shades of...
Wednesday.
Dear diary,
Today feels like a vivid painting in my heart, dear Munni; every brushstroke carrying hope, curiosity, and just a hint of restlessness. It’s Ugadi, the festival that reminds us to embrace the sweetness, bitterness, and tang of life. The day started with rituals and prayers, and I wore the saffron cotton kurti with a yellow churidar; dad’s choice. Strange how I wasn’t sure about it initially, but as the sunlight poured through the temple arches, I felt radiant, almost as if the dress reflected the festive spirit.
The hours slipped by in a flurry of prayers, the aroma of freshly cooked food, and family chatter. By evening, the house had quieted down, the golden light of the setting sun spilling through the windows, painting the walls in shades of...
