The Diary of a Young Girl – Anne Frank

Thanks to my free time throughout the first slot (since it is fraught with finance companies/banks, I had not applied to most of them) of the Summer Placement process, I managed to read couple of books through those three days (and also managed to psyche people out by doing so!) Before getting to the point of the books, my well-wishers should start drinking Pepsi, since that’s what I am destined to sell during summers!🙂

Anyway, one of the books was a novel by Tagore and had the taste of “mystique Tagore”; so can’t say much about it. But it still had the typical Tagore’s freedom hue and so I like reading it.

The other book was simply moving – The Diary of a Young Girl. She was called Anne Frank, was a Jew and the diary was written during the days of World-War – II when she along with 7 other people, which included her family members, was hiding in a office warehouse in Holland. This was when Germans had captured Holland and were bent upon evacuating Jews from all the German occupied territories.

The diary is not exclusively about the anti-semitism, but is about her daily life. It starts from a few days before they went into hiding. Has a beautiful (that word seems like an irony here) description of the struggles of a person at that critical stage of life (She was 13 when they went into hiding and were there for two years). But of course, since anti-semitism was what had determined their lives for those two years – its a lively picture of what privations whims and atrocities of a single person can cause for innocent fellow human beings. The “book is cute” as a friend, who saw me reading it, said, but it does give you shivering. Imagine living for two years of you life, shut up in a house, dying to breathe fresh air, in constant fear of being found out and sent to a concentration camp, talking in whispers, not being able to laugh, thinking twice before letting the flush or water-tap on, listening to bombs and guns and not knowing what is going on, coping up with each other when the situations can bring out the worst of human beings and still trying to live, to hope of the time “after it gets over”. Its pathetic. Fortunately, they had some helpers, who were with them till last moment. But that also didn’t help their getting arrested eventually. Only person surviving of those 8, after the war got over, was her father.

And it is capable to bring tears out of your eyes to read the descriptions of a young girl’s dreams and hope, “after the war”, dream of becoming a writer, writing a book on the “secret annexe” and becoming a journalist. She wanted to go out in the world, do something for the world, give the world a message; she wanted to live after her death.

You are living after your death, Anne; people are reading your “book” but forgive me for this -. I still can not say that they have got the message. Even today there is a Baghdad Burning.

This entry was posted in Imported from Old Blog, Literature by Jaya. Bookmark the permalink.

About Jaya

Jaya Jha is an entrepreneur, a techie, a writer and a poet. She was born and brought up in various towns of Bihar and Jharkhand. A graduate of IIT Kanpur and IIM Lucknow, she realized early on that the corporate world was not her cup of tea. In 2008, she started Pothi.com, one of the first print-on-demand publishing platform in India. She currently lives in Bangalore and divides her time between writing and working on her company's latest product InstaScribe (http://instascribe.com) with a vision to make it the best e-book creation tool. Blog: https://jayajha.wordpress.com Twitter: @jayajha Facebook: http://facebook.com/MovingOnTheBook

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s