Rinur Boi by Rini Biswas [Hardcover]

Life is not a fantasy or a toy, it is real. It has a father, a mother's songs, an office in the telephone building, and a little girl who peeks and plays, creating stories of Russia in her mind. She has numerous grandparents, aunts of various names, so there is no shortage of laps, just as there is an abundance of stories. One day, a brother is born and she grows up instantly. Our Rinu just grows up. In this way, she suddenly becomes alone once and searches for love in the world of melancholy. When she feels like crying, she finds refuge in her mother's voice singing Rabindranath's songs from her childhood and the mountains of books her father owns. So, she completes school, college, and everything else that needs to be done in a flash. Only when it comes to love, she becomes perplexed.

Now, she grows up, studies at the university, and involves herself a bit in politics. Then Rinu steps into the professional world. Meanwhile, in the past few decades, there have been radical changes in visual media. The world has literally come into the palm of her hand. She is constantly updated with news of various accidents happening before her eyes. Train accidents, the fire in Barabazar, the assassination of Benazir Bhutto, 26/11 Mumbai—these deathly news scrolls cling to her like a snake. Rinu now changes her place. While doing 'phone-in' music shows, she wants to forget all the deaths and killings in this world. Her relationships with people grow, she crosses the boundaries of unfamiliarity, stages change like home, nights disappear, and Rinu's red-flagged Kolkata flees outside the window of a speeding car.

Some days, she suddenly feels there was so much to say. Everything remained unsaid. So many stories. So much childishness. So many unnecessary misunderstandings. While watering the pots of love, one day the girl feels there are so many people she has not yet said 'I love you' to. She hasn't rested her head on her mother's lap in so long. She hasn't surprised her father by coming from behind, not in a very, very long time.