| 'Time' Series: Book One |
| 'Time' Series: The Azar-Dogra-Sassoon Saga. |
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In "Secrets Hidden in Time," a riveting tale unfolds as Hinduja Rao...
Song - Her eyes, her curls, her smile (Hridayam) ________________________________________________________________________________
05 | Dear Diary (08/05/2005)
8th May 2005,
Sunday,
9:35 p.m.
Dear Diary,
Often times, there aren't people you can talk to, people with whom you can share your deepest secrets with and as strange as it may seem for a fourteen-year-old boy to say this, I am one such person. Conversation at times feels like an extremely energy draining activity, and much to my advantage or disadvantage - I don't exactly know, Ma and Papa are mostly not at home.
Nirjhara these days, for a change has abandoned her Lego set, instead she opts to play with the blue kitchen set she is infatuated with, the one that daadi gifted her on her tenth birthday, last Sunday. Alas! that poor set of plastic cups, saucers, stove, pans, and ladles was the only thing that could stop her fat tears from slithering down her cheeks since Papa was not present at her birthday party and Ma was late too.
Aridaman, my twin, on the other hand, has a new obsession - anime. Honestly, as good as the lush green and picturesque sceneries are, I don't understand a word, neither do I understand the craze for it. Even Nirjhara does, but I don't. Even his bookshelves are filled to the brim with the DVDs of the exact same nonsense. Recently, Aridaman has also started harboring a secret - he has a crush on Shweta, that tall girl from class 9th C.
So, while Ira was busy in her kitchen set, and Daman was engrossed in crushing over Shweta and obsessing over those big-eyed and spiky-haired individuals, I decided to write. I decided that I'll write diary entries so that, at least in this way, someone would know that I, too, have a secret - an adorable and tiny one.
The other day, Vinita ma'am taught us about these four 'happy' hormones called dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin. Now, I understand the sudden changes in my demeanor and moods whenever I am around the park. And from what I could understand from each of their classifications, the sudden bursts of dopamine my body and mind go through when I see her hopping and running around the park is something I can never explain. The way her fluffy black pigtails tied with black and white polka-dot scrunchies bounce with her movements-- makes me feel weird in the stomach, I just don't know what I feel at that time. Its a very mushy and warm feeling.
You know, Bua gets these local Lychee candies from Dehradun every time she visits us. Everyone at home likes them, Ira and Daman like to place the candy on their tongue and suck on it slowly but weirdly enough, I have this sudden urge to just bite onto that sweet delight and chew it directly to savor all its sweetness and flavor at once. That is the same type of urge I have when I see her, I am a fourteen-year-old teenager, yet I want to play around with her on the see-saw and the slides! I wish to watch her smile delightfully with her two front teeth missing -all day long.
Two years back, her teeth weren't missing, though.
Tapan on the other hand, keeps asking me the same question : "Your driver and guards leave you at the gate at four pm, but it's five-thirty by the time you reach the court! Where are you for the first one-and-a-half-hours? We are already halfway through the match by the time you reach here!"
I just stare at him blankly and shrug my shoulders, providing him with no verbal justification for my absence, for my friend will feel bad if he ever comes to know that every Friday, Sunday and Tuesday, I don't come with my herd of bodyguards tailing behind me to play basketball with him and the other boys, I come to breath, I come to see her ----------- the girl with pigtails.
Those ninety minutes make me happy, and I strangely, feel calm. Away from the suffocation of the gigantic and lonely walls of the mansion.
Yet, two years have passed, and I still don't know her name. Alas! Someday I will, I definitely will, because losing hope is not an option.
Daman says I am too formal, mature, and philosophical with my words for my age, that I talk like adults----Do I?
I guess I just read more books than him and have a better vocabulary than him.
Or perhaps, the situation at home has made me like this.
Dinner was an extremely silent affair today-----not that my family talks at the dinner table any other day----- but Ira, Daman, and Ma at least have some short conversations at times. Yet, today even that was missing, I deduce that Ma and Papa had a fight ------- I could feel it.
Perhaps, it's time to make a call to daadi and naani tomorrow.
