Dear Diary, Reminder: Delete Mum

Chapter 1

Tuesday, 14th March

School was… meh. Maths test. I think I failed. But then Riya said she guessed every answer and got 80%, so there’s hope for me. Mum packed methi thepla again. Smelled like the entire Indian aisle exploded in my bag.

Wednesday, 15th March

Had P.E. today. Was made to run. WHY? I hate running. Always messes my hair afterward.

Thursday, 16th March

Okay. So. Today… I saw R. In the hallway. He had his hoodie half-zipped and was drinking a smoothie. Somehow he made it look cool. I walked past him and said, “Hi.” He didn’t say hi back. But he looked. Or maybe he had something in his eye? I dunno. But anyway. R. That’s what I’m calling him. So Mum doesn’t find out. Not that she’d EVER figure it out.

*

“HAI BHAGWAAN!” Meera shouted, clutching her phone in a bright pink leather case as she read her daughter’s diary. “She has a crush! On someone called ‘R’! What is this ‘R’? Or is it code for something? Is it drugs? Is it a gang name?!”

Meera was halfway through a video call with her older sister, Priya, who lived in Canada, and judged everything except the maple syrup.

“What kind of name is ‘R’?” Priya asked, shaking her head. “I told you to move here when you had Arya. There are more of us here to keep eyes on her.”

“I knew it! I knew Arya was hiding something”, Meera exclaimed. “She’s been blushing at her phone lately like she’s texting Shah Rukh Khan. One minute she’s watching dance videos, next minute she’s giggling into her sleeve!”

At that moment, Arya burst into her bedroom after a long day of school, ready to get out of her uniform and into her favorite K-pop hoodie.

“Mum, is that Priya Masi on the-

MUM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? What do you have in your hand?”

Meera froze, one hand still holding her phone, and in the other, Arya’s purple diary which was plastered with stickers. “I was…just…reading something. Important.”

“YOU’RE READING MY DIARY. TO MASI. ON A VIDEO CALL?!”

Meera blinked, ready to face her daughter. “I didn’t know it was your diary! I came into your room to put some clothes away and it was sitting there on the bedside table practically about to fall off. And who leaves top-secret documents next to a packet of Parle-G biscuits?”

Arya let out a strangled groan and tried to grab the diary. “This is the exact reason I don’t tell you anything! You don’t believe in privacy. Or boundaries. Or basic human rights!”

Meera scoffed. “I gave you life, Arya. I own the rights.”

“Please. Tell me you didn’t read the bit about -”

“R? You mean your little smoothie-drinking hoodie hunk?” said her mum.

Arya gasped, “Oh god, how did you think this was ok, mum?”

“I just want to know who this ‘R’ is!” Meera continued. “You’re twelve. Twelve-year-olds don’t get to have secret crushes. They get stickers and snacks, and maybe your period.”

Arya stared at her mum, even more mortified with what was happening. “You need to get off all social media,” said Arya.

Meera looked smug, knowing that her sister Priya had already done her dirty work. “Too late. Masi already messaged the family chat. Even Nana. He’s going to be very disappointed you didn’t tell him first.”

“He’s going to be so disappointed, beta,” repeated Priya.

“Didi, I have to go. I’ll phone you again tomorrow. Arya’s giving me the look,” Meera said to her older sister as she hung up the phone.

Arya collapsed face-first onto her bed with a dramatic yell, muffled by her pillow. “I knew teaching you to video call was a mistake. I’ve created a monster. A meme-forwarding, chai-sipping, boundary-breaking monster.”

Meera, who was sitting beside her, was already typing something furiously into the chat. “Don’t worry, beta,” she said sweetly. “I’ll only use initials. ‘A has boyfriend called R. Pray for her.’”

Chapter 2

Arya woke the next morning, her eyes heavy and her head pounding as she rolled over in bed to check the time. Her phone lit up: 7:10am.

She couldn’t believe her mum not only read her diary, but now knew about her crush and then shared the news with the entire family.

How could Arya face school? She considered faking a stomach bug.

Or chickenpox. That could buy her a week.

Unfortunately, her mum makes her an immunity-boosting turmeric smoothie every morning - bright orange, weirdly spicy, and with enough ginger to kill a small dragon - so her options were limited. She felt so healthy.

She stared at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Her eyes were puffy from crying into her pillow, and her hair looked like it was styled by someone mid-electric shock. “Great,” she muttered. “Perfect look for school.”

As Arya made her way down to the kitchen she looked over at her mum.

“Why are you wearing jeans?” Arya asked as she saw her mum, car keys in hand.

“I’m dropping you off today!”

“But you never drop me off.”

“Yes, well, now I am! Quality time, no?”

“No!” Arya echoed.

“Yes!”

Meera clutched her chest. “Beta, I want to make sure you are safe. These boys, they act like sweet laddoos but inside, they are just air!”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about, mum!” stressed Arya.

“Exactly. Which is why I am coming.”

Sitting in their green Honda, Arya slumped in the seat, silently praying her mother would pull up outside the gates and leave.

But of course not. That would be too easy.

Her mum parked the car, undid her seat belt, and began stretching like she was warming up for an international cricket match.

“Please don’t get out,” Arya hissed.

“I need to check the tyre pressure,” said Meera.

“They’re fine.”

“You’re not a mechanic.”

“You’re not a normal parent!” moaned Arya.

Then it happened.

A boy strolled past. Tall-ish. Hoodie. Smoothie in hand.

Meera’s eyes narrowed.

Arya saw it before it happened. “No. Mum. Please.”

Her mum had already slammed the car door shut and marched ahead.

“You! Boy!” she called out.

The boy paused mid-sip, slightly alarmed.

“You’re drinking a smoothie?”

“…Yeah?”

“You’re wearing a hoodie?”

“…Yes?”

“You are… R?”

The boy blinked. “I’m Raul.”

“HA!” Meera yelled triumphantly, as if she’d won said cricket match. “So it is you! Listen. I am Arya’s mother. She is twelve. TWELVE. If you get any ideas, keep them in your smoothie cup. Understand?”

Raul looked terrified. “I-I don’t even know who Arya is…”

Meera tilted her head. “Oh. You don’t?” As she pointed to the car.

“Nope. Sorry,” said Raul, as he gave Arya a sympathetic smile.

“Ah.” Meera paused. “Well then. Carry on, beta. Stay hydrated.”

Arya couldn’t look away. Her brain was telling her to stay in the car, don’t be seen, but her body was already on the move. She swung her bag over her shoulder and started rushing off to school, before the ground opened up and swallowed her whole.

Meera returned cheerfully to the car.

Arya whipped her head around to face her mum. “You just interrogated a random boy outside my school. He doesn’t even go here. I’m moving to Jupiter.”

“Jupiter is very gassy,” Meera replied. “You’ll fit right in.”

*

At lunch, Arya sat with her best friend Hanna, stabbing her cheese sandwich.

“So, like… she actually stopped a rando?” gasped Hanna.

“Yeah.”

“And called him R?”

“YEAH.”

Hanna snorted into her juice. “Your mum is wild.”

Arya groaned. “She’s like James Bond, but instead of saving the world, she’s ruining my life. I should call her Meera Bind.”

Hanna howled. “YES! Meera Bind. Licence to Embarrass.”

“She probably has my school bag tagged with an AirTag.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Arya didn’t answer. She just stared into the distance with the haunted look of someone who wasn’t entirely sure she was joking.

Chapter 3

By Friday, things grew worse.

Arya was at the bus stop with Hanna and felt a sudden chill in the air. Not a breeze. A presence.

She spotted a familiar green Honda parked suspiciously across the road, with a woman pretending to read Hello! magazine.

“Mum. Seriously?” Arya muttered into her phone as she called her mum.

“Oh, hi beta,” Meera said innocently. “Just passing by.”

“You live twenty minutes in the other direction!”

“It’s a free country!”

Arya ended the call and groaned. “She’s following me again,” she told Hanna. “She’s officially obsessed.”

It was true. Meera was now a woman on a mission. She had created a colour-coded spreadsheet titled “OPERATION FIND-R”, with potential suspects including:

Rishi – Year 9, football captain, very confident. Looks like type to charm the aunties.

Reece – very pale. Arya never spoke to him. I think.

Ricardo – not real. Character from book Arya once borrowed from library. Not ruling out.

“If R is not a boy,” Meera had announced at dinner that night, “then maybe it is a dog. Or a Korean boy band member. Honestly, beta, you can tell me. I joined TikTok last week!”

Arya almost choked on her daal.

“I even followed a boy on there,” Meera said proudly. “He makes eggs in fifteen different ways. Very useful.”

Arya gave up.

*

Saturday – 3:42 p.m.

Arya made the mistake of asking for a lift to the cinema.

“Just drop us off and go, Mum,” Arya had begged. “Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t get out of the car.”

Meera had nodded solemnly, like she was being sworn into parliament.

Arya stepped out of the car with her friends, feeling a flicker of relief… until she heard the window roll down.

“ARYA!” DON’T SIT NEXT TO ANYONE WHO SMELLS LIKE AFTERSHAVE!”

Back at home, after the movie, Arya paced her room.

“She’s gone mad, Hanna,” she whispered over the phone. “She’s become this super-detective-meets-Indian-mum hybrid.”

“She loves you,” Hanna said kindly.

“She loves ruining my life.”

Hanna snorted. “Well, at least she’s not like my mum… She doesn’t even care where I am half the time.”

Arya paused.

Hanna had a point.

But still. There had to be a limit.

Arya closed her eyes and sighed. “If she turns up at the sleepover next weekend, I swear I’ll disown her.”

Downstairs, Meera was already googling “how to install AirTag in a pillow”.

Chapter 4

There were only three rules at Hanna’s sleepover:

No horror movies (Riya still hadn’t recovered from Coraline).

No boys allowed (standard).

Absolutely no mums allowed within a five-mile radius.

Arya had left the house in high spirits. Her bag was packed, snacks were secured, and her mum had promised not to interfere.

“I trust you,” Meera said at the door, pressing a kiss to Arya’s forehead and slipping a suspiciously heavy snack box into her bag. “But just in case, I’ve packed some dhokla. Have fun, beta!”

At Hanna’s house, things were blissfully normal. Pizza, fizzy drinks, some questionable dancing, and a lot of chat about who liked who. Arya felt free - no hovering mum, no dramatic interrogations, and most importantly, no one shouting from passing cars.

And then… the plan unfolded.

Hanna said, “We’re meeting the others at the corner shop. Just for ten minutes.”

“Who’s ‘the others’?” Arya asked.

“You know… people. Friends.”

Arya narrowed her eyes. “R?”

“Maybe,” Hanna said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Arya panicked. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. What if she said something weird? What if she tripped over her own shoelace and headbutted a shelf of Monster energy drinks?

Still… she agreed.

So, the girls tiptoed out the side door like a gang of giggling ninjas. Arya’s heart was pounding. This was it. She might actually be able to speak to R without her mum popping out from behind a recycling bin holding a flask of masala chai.

They made it to the corner shop. Arya spotted him.

Reece.

Hoodie, smoothie, cute smirk. He was standing near the crisps, holding a packet of Monster Munch.

Hanna nudged her forward. “Go say hi.”

Arya took a deep breath.

And then-

“ARYAAAAA!”

A voice tore through the peaceful night like a Bollywood siren.

“Oh god,” Arya groaned.

She could see the green from the corner of her eye. The car door slammed, and there burst Meera like she was leading a SWAT team.

“What is going on here?!” she cried. “Corner shops? Boys? Energy drinks?!”

“Mum?! What are you doing here?”

“I got an alert on my phone! Your AirTag said you were on the move. And I knew it. You said sleepover, but you meant ‘sneakover’!”

Reece took one look at Meera’s expression and swiftly left.

Meera turned to the girls, horrified. “Do you want your heart to explode?!” pointing at the energy drinks.

Arya’s friends froze. Arya was certain she had died on the spot.

“Go home,” Arya said sternly.

Meera frowned. “What?”

“I said go home. I’ll walk.”

“But Arya-”

“I’m DONE! You don’t trust me. You stalk me. You talk to random boys and scare them away like a haunted librarian! You can’t even let me have one night to feel normal!”

Meera’s face changed. Her voice softened. “Beta…”

Arya turned away. “Just go.”

The walk home was excruciatingly slow.

All Arya wanted to do was run upstairs, tuck herself under her covers and sleep. But, as per ancient Indian household rules, she had to take her shoes off at the door, and say hello to everyone first. Her bed had to wait.

“Hi Arya!” called her Nana, watching some game show with the volume on full blast.

“Hi Nana,” Arya mumbled.

“You’re back early,” her grandad said cheerfully. “Did your friends run out of food?”

“She ran out of trust,” Meera said from the kitchen doorway, guilt in her voice, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

Arya shot her a look. “I’m going upstairs.”

“You can,” Meera said quietly. “But take this with you.”

Arya took the mug and muttered, “thanks.”

As she headed up the stairs, she sighed. “I miss the days when your only hobby was forwarding bad jokes.”

From downstairs, Meera shouted, “I SENT YOU ONE THIS MORNING! It had a talking parrot in a marriage counsellor’s office!”

Arya rolled her eyes, but the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Chapter 5

Sunday morning arrived with the smell of ghee wafting through the house and the sound of Bollywood music playing at a volume only Indian parents consider reasonable before 9 a.m.

Arya stayed in bed, wrapped in her duvet like a reluctant burrito. She wasn’t ready. Not for laddoos. Not for forgiveness. Definitely not for another impromptu lecture on the dangers of corner shops.

A gentle knock came at the door.

She ignored it.

Another knock.

Then: “I brought aloo paratha. With extra butter. The way you like it.”

Arya rolled her eyes and muttered, “Bribery is a classic move.”

The door creaked open. Her mum stood there. Not angry. Not smug. Just a bit tired. She was holding a tray like she was entering MasterChef: Mum Edition.

“I’m sorry,” Meera said softly, placing the tray on Arya’s desk.

Arya stared at the ceiling. “You’ve been acting crazy lately.”

“I know,” Meera sighed. “But beta, when you were little, I knew everything. What you ate, who you played with, how many peas you snuck under the table. And now…”

She shrugged. “Now you’re growing up. And I’m scared I’ll get left out.”

Arya blinked. “You read my diary, Mum.”

“I know. I am ashamed! But also… your handwriting? Very confusing. I thought ‘R’ might be a cat. Or a pastry.”

Arya snorted. “Well, R is just a boy. Reece. He’s not even that special.

Meera looked relieved. “Okay. That I can handle.”

Arya pulled the duvet down just enough to peek at her mum.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly. “Hanna’s mum lets her go wherever. Doesn’t even check where she is half the time.”

Meera sat on the bed. “Because I didn’t have this growing up, Arya. I didn’t have a mum who could pick me up from the cinema. Or talk to me about crushes. Or make time for sleepovers. I had to figure things out alone.”

She paused, voice cracking a little.

“I want to give you the things I never had. Even if I mess it up sometimes.”

Arya sat up slowly. “You do mess it up. A lot.”

Meera nodded solemnly.

“But,” Arya added, “I guess it’s kind of nice… having a mum who shows up. Even if it’s with a tracking device and threats of lifelong co-parenting with a smoothie boy.”

They laughed.

“So,” Meera said cautiously, “can I still read your diary?”

“NO!”

“Okay, okay! What about supervised reading time? Like a library?”

“Mum!”

“Alright, alright!”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping hot chocolate and nibbling paratha.

*

Later that evening, Arya wrote in her diary:

Sunday, 26th March

Today Mum apologised. Like, properly. And she made paratha, so it was basically an emotional peace treaty.

I don’t think she’ll ever stop being nosy, or dramatic, or full of laddoo-based life metaphors. But maybe that’s okay.

P.S. She still doesn’t know Reece once helped me carry my lunch tray. And I’m keeping it that way.

P.P.S. Until she finds this diary again.

Oh god.