The Night Diary

by Veera Hiranandani

While Rashid Uncle slept, Papa and Dadi quietly gathered our stuff in a pile. Papa packed a sweet potato, a pepper, and two tomatoes in his bag, all the fresh food that Rashid Uncle had. He also took a stack of chapatis and a big bag of dry rice. I’m losing a part of you all over again, Mama. It’s like my heart is cracked in half and will never be whole again. Why did I need to talk to Hafa so badly? If we die on the train, that will be our fault, too. If we survive, will I ever live without this shame? I rolled up my mat and net and picked up my bag. I thought about how I would never say a proper good-bye to Rashid Uncle after everything he had done for us. I thought of him having to be lonely again. I think he was starting to like having us around. Lately I had noticed him humming when he carved at night. Then I saw it, the half-carved doll on his stool, waiting to be finished. A newer, sharper sadness swept over me. I wondered if I should take it, but then he would never finish it. While Papa and Dadi moved around I quickly went to our room like I was looking for something and wrote these words fast and steady: Dear Rashid Uncle, It’s my fault we left. I only wanted a friend. Did you ever want a friend so badly you didn’t care what happened to you? I hope we see you again. Thank you for cooking with me. Thank you for telling me about my mother. Don’t worry about the doll. I hope it’s beautiful and that you sell it for a lot of rupees. Please come find us one day. Please...