Diary of Pj (3)

Article: Plan, Dream and Blunder’ ~

As days turned into weeks, Ananya and I grew closer. Our conversations shifted from late-night texts to walks around the apartment complex and hours spent on the terrace under the stars. She had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel extraordinary.

One evening, while we sat on the terrace, she asked, “So, what’s the plan now, Mr. Planner?”

I smiled, looking at the sky. “You know, for the first time in my life, I don’t have one. And it feels… okay.”

She laughed, nudging me playfully. “Progress! But don’t get too comfortable. Life’s chaos needs a little structure.”

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One day, she surprised me. “I have something for you,” she said, holding a small, neatly wrapped package.

“What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Open it.”

Inside was a planner. Not just any planner—it was customized, with the words “Plans, Dreams, and Blunders” embossed on the cover.

I laughed. “Blunders, huh?”

She grinned. “Well, that’s how we met, isn’t it?”

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Despite the growing bond between us, there were moments of doubt. One night, after a long silence during our usual conversation, she said, “You know, I’m not perfect, right? I don’t always have it together.”

I looked at her, surprised. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” she said softly, “I don’t want you to put me on a pedestal. I’m just figuring things out, like you.”

I reached for her hand, hesitant but firm. “Ananya, you don’t have to be perfect. You’ve already shown me that it’s okay to stumble. That’s enough.”

Her smile in that moment was different—vulnerable, yet strong.

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Months passed, and the world slowly started to heal. Lockdowns lifted, and life crept back to normal. My internship ended, and I finally got a job offer. It wasn’t my dream role, but it was a start.

The day before I moved out of the building, Ananya and I sat on the terrace for one last time.

“So, this is it?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

“For now,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’ve got my number, and I’ve got yours.”

She laughed, but there was a trace of something unspoken in her eyes. “You better not forget to write in that planner.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

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As I left Bangalore, I couldn’t help but reflect on everything that had happened. Ananya wasn’t just the girl with a plan—she was the girl who taught me to embrace life’s unpredictability.

We kept in touch, exchanging texts and calls, but something had shifted. Distance was hard, and our lives were moving in different directions. Yet, her impact on me remained undeniable.

One day, months later, I opened the planner she’d given me. On the first page, she had written:

“Plans are important, but so is the journey. Don’t forget to live.”

And that’s when I realized: whether or not she remained a part of my life, Ananya had already given me something priceless—a new perspective.