Life and Lies of M R Maiti

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.