Life and Lies of M R Maiti

2017 .         #137. Prey  (Michael Crichton)         #138. The Hit  (David Baldacci)         #139. Coup d'Etat  (Ben Coes)         #140. Kane and Abel  (Jefferey Archer)         #141. Warm Bodies  (Issac Marion)         #142. United as One  {Lorien Legacies #5}   (Pittacus Lore)          #143. The Sigma Protocol  (Robert Ludlum)         #144. The Firm  (John Grisham)         #145. Looking for Alaska  (John Green)         #146. Norwegian Wood  (Haruki Murakami)         #147. The Prestige  (Christopher Priest)         #148. Cujo  (Stephen King)         #149. American Gods  (Neil Gaiman)         #150. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy  (Douglas Adams)         #151. The Count of Monte Cristo  (Alexandre Dumas)         #152. Origin  (Robert Langdon)         #153. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness  (Arundhati Roy)

    The festival of lights is upon us and I journeyed back home. To lighten the most important light of my life: my mother.    I also met my cute and adorable niece. I had already called my sister and done the booking that my niece would wear the dress I brought her. Unlike her other mamas who had brought her loads of crackers, I just had a tiny dress for my tiny girl. Boring mama!    'Beta btao, why do we celebrate Diwali?' She didn't answer me. She ran away to her pile of crackers.    Some of my friends tell me that it's one time of the year, the children get to burst crackers. We shouldn't tarnish their joy. Well, how can I reply them without hurting their sentiments. It appears to me that bursting crackers, which was only supposed to be a part of the whole Diwali celebration has now become the central point of it.    In my childhood days, every Diwali, my father gave me a sum of money (he does this on every festive occasion, even today. Gi

Today's our Independence Day. Millions of heart thumped together as one today, when the tricolour, bound at first, unfurled, liberating itself from its fetters, showering us with petals of freedom. The national anthem piped out of people’s cores across the country, rich and poor alike; whether one’s a Hindu or Muslim, it didn't matter today. Even the wind celebrated as the flag was hoisted for the 71st time, swaying in its flow, undaunted. It reminded us of those times, darker than the darkest nights, those lives in gloom, and how our heroes came to our rescue, those brave souls. They lost everything, their family and their lives. But in the end they won much more. They won us our freedom. In spite of all this, a few of my intellectual friends have openly proclaimed that we have nothing to celebrate about. They say that our country isn't free. There's racism, inequality, communalism, sexism, casteism and other evils which still grip our society today.

  Disclaimer All the characters and events appearing in this work are in no way fictional. They have all kinds of connectivity to real life. Any resemblance to persons living or dead (inside) is totally intended, not coincidental.    The winter so dreaded has now come and gone. Following it, comes Spring, the most confusing weather of all. Playing a game of hide-and-seek, it makes people hang off their woollens, then catching them off guard blows a wind which shakes them to their cores. During breaks between classes, students rush to sunnier places like Babloo’s café or the adjoining balcony.   The weather takes a turn. Room 101 becomes uncomfortably warm. A request is put on the WhatsApp Group to the people in 102 to turn on the fans. While this architectural glitch appears weird to the outsiders, it has become a normality for us.  The guys in 102 somehow assume that they have higher ground and demand to be called ' the best section ', in lieu of switchin

       His talking a lot is not the problem. The problem is that you don't get to participate in the conversation. It's like listening to a soliloquy. You are not best of buddies still he's your friend, so you can't offend him by telling him to shut up. So you get yourself a routine: at regular intervals, you bob your head in polite affirmation, give an occasional smile when all you are doing is staring at a distance at random people passing by. You wonder if he knows what you’re doing but still goes on. But why would he do that? Or maybe he's as doubtful as you are. The best explanation would be that he’s oblivious to everything when he drones on.  Your resolve weakens at times. You run out of made-up expressions. Therefore, you try to butt in, trying to start a conversation in which both of you can participate, something that concerns both of you. But, no! He thwarts every such attempt of yours by interrupting you and resuming himself. You are not much of