1st September 2005
I am not the ideal sister for Akku. Since she is going to leave in three days I try to be helpful and make up for it… It’s really sad that she is going to leave so soon. I know I’ll miss her. She is suddenly so sweet and nice and I think she is nice and SHE IS but I can’t take the nastiness-after the sweetness. If she were uniformly sweet or nasty or moderate my life would be so much simpler!
My life has always depended on Akku.-she has had such an influence on me for as long as I can remember that its going to be tough with her so far off. I feel this sense of loss this void...
8th September 2005
When Akku cried on the phone yesterday -she didn’t cry, cry but her voice faltered I tried to laugh her out of it. Amma felt so much when Akku left... Me, yes I did, but not so much as Amma.
12th September 2005
Akku left me so many material things…so much material gain but it only saddens me. I miss her badly. She’ll now be on her flight from Dubai to New York. Hope she is ok. Poor thing. Its14 hours, I really miss her.
It’ll be Sunday morning in Cincinnati.
The first morning Akku’ll wake up in her Cincinnati flat there! Cool! Tomorrow she’ll go to University. I really am glad.
28th October 2005
God! Amma is being awful to me…I dunno she’s just so bored of me and all...just because she is angry with Appa.
Yesterday I had this image of a girl whose parents had fought and loathed the sight of each other and consequently loathed the sight of the girl for she was a representative of the ‘other’ –each took refuge in their ‘porandahams’-their patents’ houses and this girl is left alone with no 'porandaham' to go to...homeless...for each parent loathed her, thinking her to represent the other. Actually it was just a small simple thought…an exaggeration of my probably impending (perhaps...actually NOT impending) state...just like the conversation this girl had with her mom as to where she’d go…and I thought for the girl. What would she do? Whom could she turn to? The mother would ask her to marry, but whom could she trust she’d lost faith in marriages watching parents’ “marital bliss”.
Were, just a bit of imagination…vague unconnected situations, probabilities, possibilities, events which never were people inexistent…they come once in a while. I think “Hey, that’d make a good story. Maybe I should develop that.” But I never write about these things. They’re lost forever...unwritten.