Disclaimer: This article is not written with any intention of  taking sides or expressing an opinion on the ongoing war between Israel and Palestine. On the contrary, it emphasizes the utter futility of all conflict and the devastating consequences of hatred and bigotry. Hope humankind sees reason soon!

I had waited decades for this moment when I would be standing at the very place where Anne Frank had spent her final years hiding from the Nazis. For me this visit was nothing short of a pilgrimage, my way to connect on a deeper level with a young girl who I had come to look upon as my friend, someone who had inspired me to begin writing my own diary, whose story had at once moved, outraged and horrified me.

It was my mother who had gifted me “The Diary of Anne Frank” on my thirteenth birthday—I was the same age as Anne was when she wrote it. Needless to say, the book had a profound impact on me. Anne’s journey into self-discovery as a just-turned teenager was like a mirror to many of the feelings and changes I was experiencing as a young adolescent myself. So we hit it off immediately. I was intrigued by her story and fascinated by the clarity of her thoughts, her honesty, her sense of humor that shone through all the gloom, and her optimism for the future. 

At the time, my school friend  and I would have unending conversations about the book, trying to imagine ourselves in that situation and feeling the gamut of emotions Anne would have gone through. But most of all, we shared the overwhelming anguish, devastation, helplessness and anger at the way Anne’s story unfolded and reached a tragic end. 

It was like a personal loss—my bond with Anne was an extraordinary one, as if I knew her in flesh and blood. Through her diary, I had been a silent spectator, a witness to the final two years of her life—a life that held so much promise, one that would have blossomed and flourished, had it not been so cruelly cut short. 

My thirteen year old self had made a vow to visit the Anne Frank House one day, as a tribute to the spirited girl who wanted to celebrate all that’s good in our world. It was my way of letting her know that her words have made an impact on thousands of minds and hearts, and that she lives on, never to be forgotten, much like the wish she had expressed in her diary—“I want to go on living after my death.”

And so when I finally got to realize my long-cherished dream exactly a month ago, it was a deeply fulfilling experience. I was “visiting my friend” and reaching out to connect with her soul-to-soul. It felt surreal to tread the same ground she walked and be in the same room where she poured out her thoughts, dreams, hopes and ambitions into her now famous diary. I closed my eyes and gave her a hug – exactly what I would have done if we had ever met in person.