‘ Just take them,’ I said in a firm voice. He kept his hand on the notebooks in his lap.‘ I have marked out six legible entries. You need to read them, buddy,’ I said.‘ No, no, no,’ he said and placed the books back on the dining table,‘ I told you, I can’ t. I made myself get over her during these last two years. Now to read all this will only undo all that.’‘ Trust me, Madhav. You need to read them.’ RIYA’ S JOURNAL:
Legible entry # 1
1 November 2002 This journal is a birthday gift from me to me. It is my fifteenth birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I feel odd celebrating birthdays now. I am not a grownup, but I don’ t feel like a child either.
They say people write secrets in journals. Should I write one down? They say I am so quiet. Silent Riya. Mysterious Riya. Shy Riya. I don’ t answer them. All I want to say is, if you crush a flower before it blooms, will it ever bloom as bright later?
I was not quiet as a child. I became this way. Dad knows I changed. Dad knows I remember everything. Still, he pretends nothing happened. I do the same. He hasn’ t touched me for the last three years. He dare not. I don’ t know why I did not tell Mom. Maybe I didn’ t even know if it was right or wrong at that time. What could she have done anyway?
Dad gave me a gold necklace today. I returned it. I find it difficult to talk to him. He tries to reach out, but I avoid him. He says I am still his daughter. I like writing in this journal. I am able to say things I never can otherwise. My brother is an idiot. So are Chacha ji and Taya ji’ s boys. Spoilt brats, all of them. Just because they are boys, nobody tells them what to do. I hate these double standards.
‘ Just take them,’ I said in a firm voice. He kept his hand on the notebooks in his lap.‘ I have marked out six legible entries. You need to read them, buddy,’ I said.‘ No, no, no,’ he said and placed the books back on the dining table,‘ I told you, I can’ t. I made myself get over her during these last two years. Now to read all this will only undo all that.’‘ Trust me, Madhav. You need to read them.’ RIYA’ S JOURNAL:
Legible entry # 1
1 November 2002 This journal is a birthday gift from me to me. It is my fifteenth birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I feel odd celebrating birthdays now. I am not a grownup, but I don’ t feel like a child either.
They say people write secrets in journals. Should I write one down? They say I am so quiet. Silent Riya. Mysterious Riya. Shy Riya. I don’ t answer them. All I want to say is, if you crush a flower before it blooms, will it ever bloom as bright later?
I was not quiet as a child. I became this way. Dad knows I changed. Dad knows I remember everything. Still, he pretends nothing happened. I do the same. He hasn’ t touched me for the last three years. He dare not. I don’ t know why I did not tell Mom. Maybe I didn’ t even know if it was right or wrong at that time. What could she have done anyway?
Dad gave me a gold necklace today. I returned it. I find it difficult to talk to him. He tries to reach out, but I avoid him. He says I am still his daughter. I like writing in this journal. I am able to say things I never can otherwise. My brother is an idiot. So are Chacha ji and Taya ji’ s boys. Spoilt brats, all of them. Just because they are boys, nobody tells them what to do. I hate these double standards.