The diary of the soul

The old diary was hidden behind the pipes.

Tanvi found it.

Accidentally.

Unfortunately.

It was during Shradh.

Tanvi had pulled out the diary from behind the pipes.

Opened it.

Blank.

Just one page had a word on it.

Hello.

Tanvi wrote, ‘I’m Tanvi.’

Hello Tanvi, I’m your grandmother.

Tanvi dropped her pen. The words just magically appeared.

Her grandmother was dead. Her picture had an incense candle lit in front.

How can I talk to you?

This is the diary of souls… your ancestors can talk to you during Shradh.

Cool, so how are you in heaven?

Haha, I’m fine!

I’ve got to go now… bye!

Tanvi ran away and tucked the diary into her school bag.

She took her bike and pedalled towards the nearest apartment.

She knocked on the first door of the second floor.

“What is it, Tanvi?”

“Kimaya! Do you want to talk to your dad? Again?” Tanvi asked. Kimaya nodded, smiling grievingly.

She dragged her inside.

“Look at this, Kimaya!” Tanvi got all chatty, “You can talk to father’s soul using this diary!” Kimaya opened the black leathered diary.

It was blank again. Just Hello written.

Kimaya wrote, ‘Hello, I’m Kimaya.’

Hello, Kimaya! It’s me, your dad!

Kimaya almost cried. Tanvi smiled.

I miss you a lot!

I miss you too.

Kimaya’s smile didn’t go for a long time.

But they didn’t know why the diary even existed.

“Wait, Kimaya,” Tanvi said confused and sad, “Your dad is dead?”

“Yes,” Kimaya replied, “Tanvi, are you pranking me?”

“No… I think I just forgot… I’m so sorry…”

“Tanvi?” Kimaya whispered, “Are you okay?”

Tanvi nodded.

“I need that diary,” Tanvi said, “I need to ask my grandmother more questions!”

Tanvi ran downstairs. Her bike was broken.

“Can you drive me home, auntie?” She asked Kimaya’s mother.

“Where do you live, Tanvi?” Asked Kimaya.

“You’ve come to my house hundreds of times,” Tanvi said.

“Wait… I feel like I’m forgetting things…”

The two of them gasped.

Grandmother, why am I forgetting things between me and Kimaya?

To talk to a memory, you must sacrifice a memory.

Tanvi gasped.

How many memories do I lose?

You lose every single cherished memory with a cherished person.

Tanvi’s heart skipped a beat.

How do I stop forgetting things?

You must lock me away for life… burn the diary and you shall never talk to me again. But if you don’t before Shradh ends, you will forget everything… forever.

Tanvi’s pen stopped working.

Strange.

It was full of ink when she saw it a minute ago.

Just ten days left for Shradh to end.

October 1st, 2026

“Kimaya!” Tanvi called.

The diary was in her school bag.

Heavier than before.

“What happened?” Kimaya asked.

“What’s my favourite ice-cream flavour?” Tanvi asked.

“Chocolate?”

“Wrong! It’s caramel! See, we’re forgetting each other! We need to burn this diary!”

“So… talking to dad is impossible, if we want to remember each other…”

“Yes… I’m sorry,” Tanvi said, quietly, “But you can talk to your dad just for Shradh! Before the last night of Shradh, we’ll burn it!”

She was going to pull out the diary from her heavy bag.

It wasn’t there.

There were rocks. Broken rocks.

Kimaya’s bag felt heavy.

The diary was in it.

“How?”

They were in separate classes — section A and section D.

But somehow, the diary was sometimes in Tanvi’s bag, and then in Kimaya’s.

Tanvi opened the diary during class.

Her grandmother’s picture was sketched there, smiling softly.

At the back, there were endless spirits grinning at her.

Tanvi flipped the pages.

Spirits were grinning evilly.

It never ended.

The lights flickered.

Tanvi was back at home.

The diary wasn’t in her hand.

All her notebooks were complete. She never remembered her doing them.

Tanvi sat on her sofa.

Called Kimaya, “Is the diary with you?”

“What diary?”

Tanvi gasped.

She went to the balcony. Locked the doors and slumped on the couch.

She had to burn the diary. She had an idea.

She got up and opened the door.

“Tanvi!” Her mother cried, “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you hungry?”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been sitting on the balcony for five days! You’ve never moved!” Tanvi was so shocked, she couldn’t dare to breathe.

“I’m fine…”

Her mother calmed down.

The diary was at Kimaya’s.

Fortunately.

But unfortunate things had started to happen.

Kimaya’s mother and brother fell ill.

Tanvi stayed as a statue on the balcony for five days. GREAT!

Kimaya was smarter than Tanvi.

She obviously hoped for Kimaya to give a solution.

“Let’s not risk our memories,” Kimaya suggested.

“What do we do?” Tanvi asked.

“I bought these diaries… I’ve written all our cherished memories…”

“So… If we’ll forget eachother, we’ll read them and remember!”

“Yes… I’ve given incredibly detailed descriptions of everything I could remember…”

Tanvi heard a voice in her head.

Please.

Please.

Please.

This wasn’t her grandmother’s. It was a hundred voices together.

Another voice.

It was unmistakably her grandmother’s.

Tanvi… you know what to do…

Tanvi gasped as if she was choking.

“Thanks Kimaya! We must burn that diary — now!”

Kimaya nodded.

Children weren’t allowed to play with fire.

But these two were.

Tanvi lit a matchstick.

It didn’t light up.

She opened the matchbox.

All matches were shredded up.

Kimaya’s stove broke down.

The mechanic came.

He fainted.

The stove broke into two pieces.

Nothing worked.

One last question.

Tanvi needed to ask that desperately.

What would happen if I burnt the diary?

Nothing appeared for a moment. Tanvi started trembling.

This diary is a door to the spirit world. If you burn it, spirits may never come to Earth — again.

It wasn’t her grandmother’s handwriting. It was Tanvi’s — dirty calligraphy.

The diary hated fire.

Five days went by.

The diary never burnt.

Stove — broken.

Matches — shredded.

Lighters — didn’t work.

Bonfire — it started raining.

Every attempt failed.

What if… they didn’t burn it.

It was a bad idea.

They couldn’t risk memories.

“What if we burn it,” Tanvi started, “Using candles…”

“It’s the same fire,” Kimaya said.

“It’s not, it’s spiritual!”

“I don’t understand!”

Tanvi snatched a needle.

On Kimaya’s wrist, she pierced it.

Kimaya did the same.

Blood oozed out faster than usual.

“Get the diyas!” Tanvi yelled.

Kimaya brought her grandmother’s diya.

Tanvi opened the diary.

Hello—

Tanvi and Kimaya’s blood splashes onto the pages.

“Goodbye!” Tanvi said, “I’m Tanvi!”

“I’m Kimaya!” Kimaya yelled.

The diary caught fire.

The entire room caught fire.

Everything stopped.

Tanvi’s wrist ached.

“What am I doing?” Tanvi asked herself, “What’s going on? Where’s the diary?”

“Mom! Where’s the diary?”

“What diary?”

Tanvi paused.

“What? Diary? It’s nothing mom, I guess I’m being silly.”

Tanvi felt like a stranger had been in her room.

Tanvi wrist singed.

There was a scar.

It was a word.

‘Kimaya’

“Who’s Kimaya?” Tanvi whispered to herself.

A needle nearby had blood dried on it.

She followed her mother outside.

They stood in front of her grandmother’s picture.

“Oh, Tanvi… I wish she was here… such a nice person she was!”

“But, she can’t come here, nor can we talk to her,” Tanvi said, sadly.

“Yeah…”

Her mother left.

Tanvi went closer to the picture and asked her grandmother.

“Who’s Kimaya?”

A few days passed by.

Tanvi had found a mysterious diary in her bookshelf — written in beautiful handwriting by a girl named Kimaya.

She read it.

It had connected, felt so relatable.

Tanvi, if you don’t remember, come to section D. Let’s meet again!

She went to school.

Passed by corridors.

She had seen this girl with the short ponytail before. The girl even had a scar on her hand.

The scars tingled.

“Excuse me?” Tanvi hoped for a thing she did not know.

“Yes?”

“I’m Tanvi — from section A!” Tanvi remembered things that she couldn’t properly tell.

But, it was Kimaya, how could Tanvi risk not talking to the girl who drafted the mysterious stories of both of them together?

They couldn’t remember — they remembered.

“Tanvi!” Kimaya cried, “It’s great to see you again!”