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Hello, my name is Kalim Al-Asim. My tutor is watching me diligently whilst I write this. This is my first attempt at writing in English and my third attempt at writing with a fountain pen. He has instructed me to write details about myself with the hopes that I find writing easier that way. I am the eldest of twelve, I am eight years old, my best friend is Jamil, Jamil has a younger sister named Najma, we eat cookies together if I ask politely. We moved to Great Britain when I was two, and we brought a lot of our servants along with us! The maids whisper a lot, I think it's because I had an accident back then with my uncle. I know better than to ask now. I've been personally tutored since I was three years of age. I know arithmetic, English, Arabic, Hindi, and I'm learning Spanish. Arabic is my first language, but we use English more often than not. I learned Hindi secretly. My tutor promised not to tell anyone so I could surprise Jamil with it. Jamil's father is Indian, so he knows Hindi and speaks it with his father and sister. I plan on telling him happy birthday in Hindi in a few months. He'll be grateful, I'm almost certain of it! My tutor asked me to sign my name and the date at the bottom, so I'll do what he asks me to.
Kalim Al-Asim, July 8th, 1887.
The first of many entries in his diary, the young heir to the steadily expanding Asim Merchant Company was newly eight years old at the time of writing this, clear by the shaken handwriting and the letters scratched out to be corrected. His journaling started out as a simple way to learn English with the intent of properly filling the head of the family's role, only for it to turn into something far greater as the years went by. Most of my coworkers are amazed by his literary skills and large vocabulary at such a young age, especially after taking into account what others said about him. He was frequently described as air headed, yet he was clearly a very intelligent young man. I can only hope you take the same delight in reading his entries as I do.
Dear diary,
I don't like it when Jamil blows raspberries at me, but it's Jamil, so I don't mind it as much compared to when Najma does it. Najma is a lot louder than Jamil and a lot sloppier, too! I'm told I shouldn't talk about a lady in such a way, but she took my bunny, and I am still upset with her over it. Jamil just gets mad at me, I don't know what makes him mad, but I hope I figure out soon. For instance, today I gave him a piece of fruit, but he immediately turned his cheek to me and groaned. It made me upset, so I ate the fruit and went to my daily lessons. Mathematics was as difficult as always, leaving my head aching by the end of it. I had much more fun during music lessons, I got to practice violin, and I was later allowed to dance to the instructor's demonstration. It was quite a lovely day, and I'm happy I finished writing it all down before tea time. Mother has asked the household to follow the English tradition of tea time. That way her friends will think she's more like them.
Kalim Al-Asim, July 12th, 1887.
That was the second entry we've recovered, and it became evident that Kalim was allowed to play with Jamil and Najma only, because he had never mentioned genuinely playing with his younger siblings. He explains why in a letter entry when he was fifteen years old.
Dear Diary,
My sister Ghaliya died today. She was assassinated, but people suspect that the actual target was me. By people, I mean father. Father is worried about me because my little sister ended up switching teacups with me. She doesn't like cinnamon, so I drank her cinnamon chamomile tea and she drank my ginger drink instead. Ghaliya died a few hours later when the poison kicked in, exactly forty-three minutes before dinner. We ate curry for dinner, it's one of Jamil's favorites. I made sure to save him some. Nobody was really paying attention, only because they were trying to figure out what was wrong with my little sister. The funeral is going to be on the following Sunday.
Kalim Al-Asim, July 17th, 1887.
That day, Ghaliya Bint-Asim was pronounced dead, we can't find her death certificate at the time this is being written, but we believe she was pronounced dead after 7:00 PM and before 10:00 PM. She was believed to be six years old, but we do not know much about the younger Asim siblings.
Dear Diary,
I've never seen so many flowers before. Our gardens are all very plain, but Ghaliya's funeral was as vibrant as the meadows Jamil draws. I convinced my parents to buy me art supplies, but they didn't know that it was never for me in the first place. Jamil draws beautiful and vibrant things, something that surpassed the colors of the funeral. Ghaliya was dressed in white and laid to rest with a Catholic ceremony, another attempt my mother has made to fit in better with other families. It's working well enough, I'm going to meet some English children next month. I hope they are as friendly as Jamil is.
Kalim Al-Asim, July 24th, 1887.
That was the last recovered entry from July of 1887. Most historians believe he was detached from reality while writing this, focusing on his friend's artistic pursuits rather than his own sister's death. I'd agree, because he was only eight years old. He likely couldn't comprehend the death of his sister, and was forced into a state where reality seemed too confusing to partake in. The next set of entries comes from the month of August.