Life and Lies of M R Maiti

"Nitin, where did you get lost again," asked Mukesh. On the Saturday preceding the Diwali holidays, Neil, Nitin and Mukesh had a get-together before leaving for their hometowns. Everyone had turned up in their traditional attires. And for once, Neil looked like a civilised person without a drink in his hand. "Nothing," replied Nitin. "I was just thinking that every year, we celebrate Diwali on the eve of Lord Rama returning to Ayodhya after defeating Ravana. He went to such great lengths to rescue her wife only to exile her later whereas Sita Maiya chose to accompany him, as a dutiful wife, during an exile imposed only on him." "Not many people realise this," said Mukesh. "But the real protagonist of Ramayana is Sita Maiya, not Rama or Ravana." "That I can agree on." "Ravana had the mental might of ten brains. Still, he wasn't wise enough to let go of his ego. He ended up squandering everything because of his arroganc

Mountains and rivers Are for some, An escape from daily life, And for others, A part of it. Either way, I'm Always left bewildered By both nature And human spirit. I sat motionless, yet Soared high like a bird, Flowed gently like a stream, Stood resolute like a mountain And drifted aimlessly like a cloud. Beauty and the beholder, What is one without the other? Upon my return, The cherished moments Found their way Without fail, Into my treasure chest, My source of sunshine On a gloomy winter day. *** Liked what you read? Leave a comment! Pic captured by me on Gaumukh Tapovan Trek 

Gaumukh Tapovan Trek -  Part 3 of 3 Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 1 of 3: The Bhagirathi Sisters Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 2 of 3: A Hearty Submission "Did you sully my good name again to justify your coming here?" "The mountain is named after you. It wasn't that long a shot." "Why can't you stay in the city like a normal person? Plan your life ahead. Get married, have kids, and so on." "When I was a kid, we had this clay modelling class where the teacher expected us to combine earth and water to build statues of God. I always ended up with a dried lump of clay." "That's your take on marriage? Doesn't science tell you that life arose from a mixture of earth and water? Nature gave that a chance. Why can't you?" "Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?" "I know almost everything. That doesn't mean I can't delight myself with a conversation now a

Gaumukh Tapovan Trek -  Part 2 of 3 Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 1 of 3: The Bhagirathi Sisters Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 3 of 3: By God's Grace It was very early in the morning, but Bhojbasa campsite was already abuzz with activity. Everyone was up and about by 5:30 AM; bags packed, tents unhitched, breakfast done and lunch packed, in that order. If only I could continue to remain so disciplined back in the city. The Sun was yet to rise. Still, the snow-covered Bhagirathi sisters glistened, a halo of light forming in their background. A few stars hovered over the peaks. I immediately searched for Orion. It was finally here after two days of absence. That was a good sign for the day. As expected from Hemant's briefing yesterday, we found a long waiting line at the trolley point. It was not just us, but other groups of trekkers, porters, and kitchen staff along with their equipment. And the trolley could fit a maximum of six at once, along with thei

Gaumukh Tapovan Trek -  Part 1 of 3 Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 2 of 3: A Hearty Submission Click to read Gaumukh Tapovan Trek - Part 3 of 3: By God's Grace I was crossing the bridge when Alok asked me, pointing to the river flowing below, "Do you know which river it is?" Very sure of myself, I replied, "Of course, Bhagirathi." My pride was hurt when he smiled and said, "No this is Kedar Ganga, a tributary of Bhagirathi. It originates from Kedartal and joins the Bhagirathi River here, in Gangotri." I had heard about Kedartal. It was a difficult trek. But right now I was undertaking a different one: Gaumukh Tapovan. I was part of a group of 22 people, led by the Trek Leader, Hemant Bisht and Trek Guides, KP Da and Alok. Starting from Gangotri (10,050 feet), we were supposed to reach Chirbasa (11,630 feet) today after covering 10 kilometres. Soon, we came across another bridge and I heard Alok say, "This one is Bhagirathi." From t

Impervious to words of encouragement I shouted from the opposite side, Fearful and indecisive, To and fro she went, Looking for a point where the stream Was narrow enough to jump across; But there wasn't one. To get to the other side, Just like me and everyone else, She had to walk barefoot Through the shallow muddy water, Icy cold and riddled with boulders. The summit fever Or some moral conscience, I don't know what triggered me, But I got back on my feet That was still numb from before, And went back the way I came. The water didn't affect me this time. Retracing my footsteps And words of a poem I had written long back, I reached her to find her eyes Wide open with surprise. One after another, I sent her shoes flying across, Which probably hit someone. Then without losing a moment, I took her hand and asked her To count with me... 1, 2, 3 and go! The water welcomed me this time, Sending a flash of inspiration. And when we reached the other side, We were welcomed with che

 A long time ago, In the flickering light of the lantern, Sat the weaver’s boy. While his father spun the strands, He heard him say, "Son, keep studying, And life will be plain sailing." Young, naive and eager to please, He set on a pursuit to prove his worth By devouring every book he could find. And with every page he consumed, The light inside him Burned brighter and brighter. Ages and ages hence, In the piercing light of the laptop, Sat the weaver's boy, Almost as old as his father was back then. While his ancestors kept a vigil to honour him For discontinuing their family occupation, He struggled with the words In order to weave them together. Not everything seemed to be smooth sailing. His father had become old and frail. The light inside him Burned dimmer every day. *** Liked what you read? Leave a comment! Painting - "Weaver at the Loom" by Vincent van Gogh.