Secrets Hidden In Time (Time #1 Book#1) (✓ )

02 | Dear Diary (08/05/2005)





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02 | Dear Diary (08/05/2005)

8th May 2005,

Sunday,

9:35 p.m.

Oftentimes, 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, Maa 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 Maa 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, neither do I understand a word coming out of the characters' mouths, nor do I understand the craze for them. 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 harbouring a secret - he has a crush on Shweta, that tall girl from class 9th C.

So while Ira is busy pretending to be a chef and Daman is lost in his anime love saga, I've decided to take up diary writing. Because, you know, it's not like anyone else cares about my secrets, like the fact that I have a tiny, head-scratching monkey in my brain.

The other day, Vinita ma'am taught us about these four 'happy' hormones: dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin. Now it all makes sense. Every time I'm at the park and see that 'monkey' play, my body goes through a dopamine explosion. Who knew happiness could be so scientific? 

You know, every time Didaa swings by, she brings these local lychee candies from Dehradun. 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 chomp into that sweet delight and chew it directly to savour all its sweetness and flavour at once.

This brings me to teeth.

And from teeth, I can't help but think of the 'monkey'.

Some of her teeth are missing now, but two years ago, she had a full set.

Then there's Tapan, who keeps bombarding me with the same question: "Your driver and guards drop you off at the gate at four pm, but it's five-thirty by the time you waltz into the court. What on earth are you doing for the first hour and a half? We're already halfway through the match by the time you show up."

I just give him my best blank stare and shrug like a confused puppy, offering no explanation for my mysterious absence. I mean, why ruin his day by revealing that every Friday, Sunday, and Tuesday, I ditch my entourage of bodyguards to play basketball with him and the boys? Nope, I'm really just there to see her . . . the 'monkey' or the 'girl with pigtails'. The Gulmohar girl.

Those ninety minutes are my slice of happiness.

Away from the suffocating loneliness of the mansion's colossal walls.

Yet, here we are, two years later, and I still don't know her name. Alas. One day, I will; I absolutely will, because giving up is not something I am going to do.

Daman claims I'm too formal, mature, and philosophical for my age, that I sound like a mini adult. Do I?

I guess I just devour more books than he does and have a snazzier vocabulary. Or maybe it's just the circus at home that's turned me into this.

Dinner was a total snooze-fest today . . . not that my family is a chatterbox at the dinner table any other day, but usually, Ira, Daman, and Ma throw in some short conversations. 

But today? Crickets. 

I can only assume Ma and Papa had a spat. I could feel the tension in the air.

Signing Off

Dev D.

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