Pens of Fate

More Diary Drama

That's it. I am going to have to put my diaries under lock and key now.

Mama's reaction after reading my latest diary entry: Tears. "You feel like you can't trust me with your feelings?" Tear, tear. Tissue. Tear. Nose wipe.

Papa's reaction: Utter confusion. "Why is your mother crying? But why is she crying? She won't stop crying!"

Inaya, in full little-sister style: "I always knew Leena was too good to be true. There had to be something underneath that perfect exterior." (I aim a playful punch in her direction.) "See? She's getting violent! Somebody stop her before I get hurt!"

Jasir says nothing (for a change), but he hangs on to Mama, arms around her while she sobs and sniffs.

Seriously. So much drama. Over a diary entry! I can't even express my feelings around here.

Papa sits me down for a "talk".

"Let me understand this," he says. "You feel frustrated by your mother?"

"Papa..." I begin.

"It's OK to feel like that sometimes," he says. "But you shouldn't write notes to your mother saying that."

"Papa..." I say.

"You see, she is a woman." He stops and considers how to continue. "She has a lot of feelings. Because she is a woman. So she has feelings. She doesn't need more feelings. Don't tell her your feelings."

"Papa," I say, more insistently.

"Sometimes, you need to face your feelings." He keeps talking as if he hasn't heard a word I said. "You can..." The briefest of pauses betrays his own uncertainty regarding what he is saying. "You can share your feelings with me."

"OK, Papa," I say, giving up on getting any other word out of my mouth.

"So," he leans forward, making a concerned expression. "What are your feelings, Leena?"

I look at him. He is the picture of middle-aged fatherly concern, brushed over with the tiredness of a working day. Internally, I marvel at his style of being detached yet involved, keeping up his role in our daily disagreements from a distance. Then I realize that he is actually waiting for me to reply.

"Ahhh," I say.

"Yes." He nods encouragingly.

"OK, Papa," I say.

"Yes," he replies.

"Um, how about, you know, I need to...?"

"Yes," he says. I realize he is on autopilot. Maybe he is more uncomfortable in this situation than I am. I attempt to make a graceful exit, popping up and declaring, "The pressure cooker!"

"Is off," he says.

"Yes, but I think I hear it." I stick to my excuse. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me back down. I can see where Jasir gets his little-brother grabbiness from.

"You are going to fix this because your mother has been crying all day and I don't know how to make her stop," he says in one breath.

"OK, Papa! I'm going to talk to Mama straightaway," I say.

"Go, and don't come back until you succeed," he says, reclining back in his seat with a sigh.

I make a speedy exit and bump into Inaya, who was apparently trying to listen to our conversation.

"Eavesdroppers, spies and curious cats, oh my!" I say, brushing past her towards Mama's approximate location in the house.

"Oh, shush," she says in a bored tone. "Mama is all fine now."

"Really?" Her statement makes me stop in my tracks.

"Yes. I dug out all the feel-good stuff I could find. The cards we've given her over the years. Our merit certificates. School projects. Now she's crying over a picture of you when you were in kindergarten. I think that's her way of handling that her eldest picture-perfect daughter secretly hates her."

"Inaya." I sigh. "Stop saying that."

"No, really, it's as exciting as a family drama can get. Daughter hates mother. Daughter runs away from mother. Daughter leaves younger sister with a laptop and a room all to herself. The Moin family lives a life of happiness. The end."

"You can use the laptop." I point in the general direction of the laptop. "Let me go see Mama."

Walking towards Mama, I sigh internally. This has got to stop.

Have you ever experienced a big family dispute over something so silly it's not worth mentioning? What did you do about it?