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I have to confess. I have carried it for too long inside me. No, don’t mistake me as one of those who can’t keep a secret. I’ve kept lots of secrets (like Kumar Ritwik’s crush, or Anup Bishnoi’s fantasy or Sagi’s net worth). Haven’t told anyone. Not yet. (I was tempted, sorely tempted, but I held on.)

But this. This has gone on far enough. I thought I could secrete it in the farthest corners in my mind, where all the other bad stuff is. It was easy at first. Nobody even realized. Then things started happening. It was on facebook, in the newspapers, on TV. Anxious girls crying, clamouring, to get a glimpse, the constant updates from news channels, all the viral stuff on social networking sites. Everybody loved it. And with each status update, each news report praising the new phenomenon, it kept clawing at the back of my mind, enveloping my thoughts, and pushing itself forward. Its talons were cold and clammy. Soon it enveloped me. All I could see was “it”, laughing at my weakness that fateful day when I picked it up and leafed through it. I don’t know what had come over me. It was so enticing, erotic even. The smooth exterior beckoning to me. Calling. Enticing me into sin.

Life has been hell since.

And I have realized redemption lies in confession.

I did it.

I read Twilight. (All those who are reading this, please, do not judge me. It is in no way a reflection of my sexual leanings.) All the hysteria, the hype, it got to me. I didn’t realize at the time that it be the worst piece of claptrap that I could possibly have laid my hands on. Even Chetan Bhagat is better.

I swear it was a moment of madness.

And then I did something worse. I gave the book to someone else. Only to get rid of it. I only realized later that I had dragged him down into sin with me. If you are reading this, please, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry to have thrust on you that abomination. If we ever meet again, I hope you will not hold a grudge.

And just when it was fading from my conscience, I hit rock bottom. They made a movie on it. The posters, the “I Love Robert Pattinson” status updates, the fan clubs, the madness. It was too much for me. I had to confess.

“Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.”

God save my soul. Amen.