"You're going to get sick, Kaushik, always wandering outside like that," my mother said. She continued to speak to you in Bengali, despite your consistently English replies. It was your mother who came down with a cold, using this as an excuse to stay in bed for days. She refused the food my mother made for the rest of us, requesting only canned chicken broth. You walked to the minimart a mile from our house, bringing back the broth and issues of Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. "Go ask Parul Mashi if she wants tea," my mother said one afternoon, and I headed upstairs to the guestroom.

hmm, sadly there is no dialogue. there is no place in the story where he is talking to anyone. it's more of just describing what he eats and where he sleeps. you have to become anne frank, give details of where you are, what other folks look like, how the environment is. have a little bit of dialogue tell of what people are specifically saying. anne frank talked about her entire household including the people, the objects, the lighting, the food they ate, and even the smell in the air. there has to be more to your diary entries, the whole story in its current state is only about peter van daan, the food, the sounds, and where he sleeps. also he seems to be writing only once a year yet more than that happened from day to day. for a friend, i can you write it out, if you want.

the following what exactly?