A couple of days back, as my 13-year-old sister and I were strolling on the terrace, I randomly asked her: Do you have a secret that you would love to share with me?
She, after thinking for a moment: Yes, I have one.
I: Okay, go on.
She: Bhaiya, when I was in class 7, I wanted to try an ice popsicle, and so I bought it. I know it’s something that everyone in the home loathes, but I wanted to try. So I brought it home but soon realised that I shouldn’t have. Had I thrown it in the dustbin, mom would have found out. So, I decided to flush it. But the thought of plastic coming up kept bothering me. I sat for some time in the bathroom, kept checking the toilet pot and even flushed multiple times. Thankfully the plastic didn’t come up. I have never told mom about it.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. In my mind, the secrets are supposed to be, well, something big. And this was something big for her.
Makes me wonder how this innocence is lost as we grow up.