The Writer

"Something bizarre your eyes do hold

Fables millions they have told

Shine they like some bright star

Wandering in some land so far...

~ Spring forever"

"Leena!!!! I hope you haven't turned deaf! God, why can't people at least respond in this house?" My mom's scream broke my concentration. I realized, like all other times, I have been reading the same lines in a loop on the screen.

Spring forever- a nice, average anonymous name! Yet, the verses make me go topsy turvy every time I start reading them. I joined this writing forum on the internet a year ago. I too had started writing with a pen name- Alma archisman. I don't know what exactly the name means or even if it means something! I heard it somewhere and used it. I started with poems. When people liked it, I gained confidence and started writing stories. Today with 700 followers, I feel like some type of accomplishment. But when it comes to reading or commenting on someone else's writing, my eyes only wander and get stuck on one person- Spring forever. I don't even know if he's elder, younger, or whoever. But being anonymous made it easier for me to follow and shape him any way I want to.

"Leena, don't you think, you are too much into that laptop these days?" My dad retorted at the dinner table and my younger brother started laughing at this investigation scenario. Firstly, I felt like smacking my not so lovely sibling on his face and then wished to get vanished into thin air. And then, the lecture began, "You know about your board exams, right? In the next two months? You have the entire year syllabus. How can you be so careless? At least care about us, we have to face everyone...." And my mind started pondering about the word, "CARE". Bingo! My next theme...

"Leena, are you even listening?" Mom snapped at me. I wanted to snap back. I wanted to scream that it's because of you both I am stuck with this boring science. I still want to be with literature and fiction all the time and escape this place forever. And I don't want to "care" what you think. But I didn't speak any of these. Later, at the midnight, after finishing mock tests, I opened my writing forum account and started typing:

"How much easy it was to not care

How much easy it was to not share

Whatever feelings you did hold

And let your heart get so cold

But that silence in the dark

Did make you feel good

So you thought,

Rather than making noise

Stay silent if you could

If only you could show

Exactly how much care you do

Instead but you chose

To not care and hide notions which were true"

I didn't know if it meant anything. But you know, what's the best part about poems? You can blabber anything you feel. Those who understand become friends and those who don't take it as creativity. Something occurred in my mind. With dozens of tags and hashtags, for the first time, I tagged '@Springforever' and pressed enter. I don't know if he has ever read my poem. And this was not even half as good as he writes. Without thinking much into detail, I switched off the laptop and the lights and tried sleeping.

The morning was a bright one. And turned out to be an awesome one, when my phone showed a notification in the email- Reading Bees Writing forum: You have one comment from '@Springforever'. I literally jumped out of my bed. I forgot about school, exams, and everything!

I opened my laptop which took forever to boost and I logged in: "Caring is a beautiful notion. It holds little love and lots of emotion. Sometimes, it does give a little dejection. But still, it's a lovely imagination. And girl, you are a superb writer. Keep it up."

Oh god! I was on cloud nine. A reply from Spring forever. Not just a reply, a poetic reply! And he did like it. I spent my entire day in school as I had already passed my exams with distinction. Friends thought I had found a boyfriend and started gossiping. But then, who 'Cares' and I kept drifting in my notions.

On the same night, after I had finished studying, like an addict, I logged in to the forum to see further notifications. Spring forever posted something, this time not a poem. It said, "I am starting my own blog. I write fiction, poems, and any other interesting thing that I find in my journey. Fic lovers and poem lovers can post there as well. No subscription is required for now. It's a free platform." A sense of happiness and nervousness ran simultaneously through my veins. Posting on his platform meant he will definitely read it. But what if it's not good enough? With trillion thoughts in my mind, I never realized, when did I start typing on his blog. Though it was a short one:

"Reveries million I have to reap

Dreams many I have to keep

Miles extra I have to walk

Just before I lose into my sleep"

And posted.

The next day, again I found a mail from the new blog site. I don't know if it was becoming a ritual but it felt good. A comment again from Spring forever; it read: "Sleep is serenity. And a necessity. It brings a new day and some type of way. " I read it twice. I went straight to the about page and for the first time, I saw his name and his picture. His name was Alan. Okay, not so Indian. He was a professional writer from England. And there it was- his personal mail ID. I wrote to him, without thinking much.

"Hi, this is Alma Archisman. Real name- Leena. I so admire you for everything you write from the beginning. Thank you for commenting on my posts and inspiring me." And pressed send. The honking of the school van became louder and I rushed down.

Back in the evening, I did found a reply. He was prompt. Not one of those proud types. "Hey Alma Archisman, thanks for writing. You are a talented writer. You know, don't lose this. It's very hard for people to discover what they are good at. And you are lucky to know that already. Keep growing."

And, this actually became my routine. Each night I would send a post and a mail and found a reply to both the stuff the next morning. I think those were my best days. To find one and sharing almost everything anonymously. Meanwhile, two months had passed and finally, my exams arrived. We didn't share anything on those days. Because I had to score well for my parents so that they can brag it to the neighbors.

Finally, after a month, I again wrote to him. "My exams finally over. Now, again, the same journey in college." This time a quick reply came from the other side. "Why don't you ever say it to your parents?"

I didn't know what to say. Still, I typed the obvious answer- they won't understand. They would never permit.

"They don't have to allow you. They need to support you. Your happiness should matter. Do what you like. Of course in a good way. Don't lose your life like this! There's a scope in fiction. We wouldn't have known each other without fiction and poem. We met because of this common interest. You will meet many people like me who will help you become what you want. It just takes one leap. Go for it girl. I know you are born to be a writer. Just give it a chance. Make yourself lucky."

I kept on reading it. My mind blank. Not able to grasp anything. And after 10 minutes, he might have sensed that I am not going to reply, he wrote back- "Okay, since you so much adore whatever I write and read it like a bible, here's the deal. If you take literature professionally, you can do an internship with me for an anthology and poetry novel. I am serious!"

Now he was talking! My eyes were as big as a deuce ball and I kept on reciting it till I was sure what I was reading. And slowly, I typed- Okay, I will try.

But in the excitement, I did one mistake. I kept my laptop open before going to sleep. Dad came into my room that night only to find my emails. He read everything, stories, poems, and mails. I never had the courage to tell them that I write and love to write. His eyes went on the poem that Forever spring aka Alan had tagged me- "Not so easy are labyrinths to cross

But those roads, we anyhow have to come across

Retreating can never give you a way

Keep walking and stars will never leave you astray"

In my sleep, I was already writing poems with Alan in some faraway land. And when I woke up with a start, I knew in my heart if I don't do this, I am going to regret it for my entire life. I prepared myself went down for breakfast. It was Sunday, so everyone was there at the table.

I was just about to speak when dad uttered, "So Alma archisman, how's your day?" And my feet turned cold. I remembered not shutting down my laptop. But he was smiling. They all were smiling. "Don't worry my big sis," My brother grinned, "they won't scold you. You are going to Kent's or Nottingham Uni in the UK in the fall intake. But you have to pass these assessments." I, dumbfounded and speechless, looked at my parents. And looking at my teary eyes, he said, "Why won't we understand? Have you ever showed 'Us' your poems and fictions. Let alone we never even knew you could write. We have scolded you always because we thought you don't know what you want to do in your life and don't like anything! But you do like and that's what you are going to do." I still couldn't stop crying and hugged all of them, real tight.

Now looking back at all those while sipping my coffee on a terrace balcony of a house with a blue door in Hertfordshire, I don't know why did I keep writing without telling anyone, it does feel stupid now. Although I did score 89% in science too in my boards. That was a proud moment. But not as much as looking at the beautiful hills and writing with Alan in his mini office cum library...