No matter, how much you try, you'll only be able to say the word 'LOVE', but will never completely understand its meaning. The two definitions just prove that the term is both real and scientific. As kids the only love we know is for our parents. And then time slowly takes you through a hullabaloo that sometimes leads to an excruciating end.
Is this a love story? Um… not really; however, it definitely has enough LOVE in it. Has it happened to you… you love someone deeply, and in your heart you reserve a special corner for them? You’ve so many things to say but act dumb in front of them?
'And he cried because it was over and I smiled because now love was about to begin..'
Penning down the last line of my latest fiction, I closed the MS word and going through the notifications, shut the laptop down. It was then I realised that i was drenched in perspiration that was trickling down my temples.
“Have you ever heard of a revengeful foetus?” I quietly asked him, my eyes twinkling.
He was holding my right palm, rubbing it against his. Elia and Toshi, quite a committed couple, stood dumbstruck, looking at both of us smilingly. Somewhere I knew their minds were raising all kinds of questions.
#Test 1: Carry the bowl of love and pour a drop of the venom of distrust. Does it survive? #Test 2: Best friends forever, really? Put her in a cobweb of mysteries and see if she bleeds with a smile. #Test 3: It’s simple. There are no rules in the game except to commit SINS. But you’ll be served death for dinner. Are you still ready to play the sinful game? She’s an agnostic.
For The Hundred Tomorrows is her second collection of poems (First in English). Her poetic solitude and emptiness makes her roaming in the poetic wasteland desert. Then her world becomes secluded, where she feels ‘hundred years of solitude’. It brings forth her poems one by one. Some time it slices the wounds of ‘second sex’ in the male dominated society. And she shouts ‘…Are we so much suppressed?/having a mouth but numb/they forcefully hold us back/leaving totally dumb…’
Her sadness and grief are so communicable that no one can resist tears.
Her observations are always ahead of her age and time. Her dreams to get a world where ‘…Somewhere the sky does kiss the cloud/Somewhere the hills just seem so great/Somewhere the lonely sadness/Doesn’t seem so very straight…’
Her romanticism depicts, ‘…The way you reacted and now/you never mind if I don’t care for you/the way you show, you smile/Thinking everything’s fake is true…’
In this way she opens her; word after words; line after lines. Her teen thoughts become heavy; Heavier than her age and time. Thus she goes on…
Mehfil ko hansi dekhkar/Hum bhi chale the khushiyan sametne/Zalim ghar aaye to dekha/Jholi mein jitne the woh bhi bikhar gaye... (When I saw the party in full swing with laughter and enjoyment, I too went to share their joys but when I came back home I found whatever happiness had in my bowl were washed away)
She was under fourteen and studying class IXth in St. Marys’ Convent, Allahabad, where Hindi is treated as secondary language. Her mother tongue Bengali, but her poetic prodigy in Hindi reflects with a matured pen. In his foreword, Dr, Mustaq Ali, Professor, Allahabad Central University says, ‘Leema’s poems have not only romantic touch but her deep insight roams in spirituality and divinity. She sometimes dips in the bottom of her thought in quest of divinity or something else… though her age is mere fourteen, but she has a paining heart which has been suffering in her worldly distress so many years. She depicts every complicated human relation in poems so simply and easily that it never reminds her teen age: Abhi Jeena ki khwahish thodi baaki hai mujhme/Tum batao to zahir karne ki koshish karoon/Abhi pyar ka samna karoon ki no karoon mein/Tu kaho to main yeh bhi bata doon (Still I have left some desire to live, but you tell me should I try to express it? just you tell me should I face your love or not...) – Khwahish – page 15)