Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

A day before my vacation came to an end, while I readied my luggage, already occupied mostly with the snacks prepared by my mother, my father had only one thing to add - a stack of postcards, along with an instruction to drop one in the letterbox every week, during my time in school. I used to be a dutiful son in my childhood days. I did as I was asked. Every Sunday evening, I took a stroll on my own, carrying a written postcard. Where the road from the hostel turned towards our classrooms, there was a huge tree, and attached to its massive trunk was a red letterbox. It was cylindrical and had two openings at the front side. The top opening had a flap that swiveled back on a gentle push, allowing me to drop the postcard. The bottom opening had a small door with a tiny lock on it. There was a certain kind of mystery associated with the entire thing - from the moment the postcard dropped with a hollow sound in the box to the moment it was delivered to my home. I never got to see the post...

I remember the time, I broke your doll as a joke. Crying, you ran to our mother And slammed the door on my face. I was eavesdropping when you said, 'I wish I had an older sister instead.' Later that day, Father called me to say, 'Some titles you are born with, You have to earn it all the same.' I remember the time, It was your college admission day. You stacked your documents in order, Then rearranged them neatly again, Smiling at strangers Who didn't know your name yet. Far away from home and parents, Standing by your side, I hope... I earned my title that day. *** A poem dedicated to siblings... Divided by gender, united by blood! Did you have any similar experience with your sibling? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

*** There's always Another mountain, Indifferent and silent, Summoning the same man. The pull of the climb Is all he has ever known. He doesn't spare a moment To mourn the valleys left behind. But it's lonely at the top. Breathless, he stops. The silence rushes in. He mourns those who fell behind. The drifting clouds morph into faces, The ones who didn't come along, They must have understood his eagerness, As he understood their reluctance. Then the clouds move on. And so does he. The clear sky has shown him Another mountain waiting. *** A poem dedicated to... mountains? What do you think? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

*** In ancient times, Driven by tribal mentality And resource scarcity, War was more commonplace For the fragmented societies. But every life a person took, It stayed with him, Their last exchange weighed on him. The grand accomplishment Of modern times Is humanity's greatest failure, Weapons that erase Thousands in one blow, A quick way to win a war. Now the wars simmer, not blaze, Diplomacy stokes the endless forge. When you have an abundant population, The body count doesn't hurt If distributed over a period of time, A mere handful at a time. I see all the wise men Gathered once again, Chest-thumpers and squabblers, Who never reach a conclusion, Because a war is only glorious, When it's prolonged and hard to win. Gods are children of misery. So are these wise men, Risen in the same way, From the anguish of countless devotees, Clinging to the dreams of better days. These fake Gods must go. We already have a pantheon of originals. Not to forget the third-eye wonder, One bl...

*** I unknowingly uttered My thoughts out loud, 'Amid this rush of endless scrolls, Only a handful read poetry, And even they... They fail to read the poet.' My friend was Quick with a reply, 'It's failure by design. If you wanted to be truly heard, You would have a conversation. You wouldn't write poetry.' *** I said to her, with a sigh, 'Maybe someday, I'll love myself Like you love yourself.' She replied, with a smile, 'Maybe someday, The ones who strive to light the world Won't be immersed in darkness themselves.' *** "Life sucks." "Yes, it does." And just like that, In a string of conversations, Life would have come to pass, Even become a little better along the way. Or so I thought... When I cried at her wedding, It wasn't because of losing her. I was thinking of another wedding, I had planned to attend, But never could and never will. The silver lining has come loose now. Wearing a threadbare coat, I'm r...

***  If he spits it out, The world perishes If he swallows it, Death claims him at once. So, he cradles the poison In his throat, Bestowing a bluish sheen, A symbol of eternal sacrifice. If I lay it all bare, The indifference would kill me. If I keep it pent-up inside, I'll choke and die. So, I mask the poison, With blue markings on paper. The fancy wordplay is nothing but A never-ending compromise. *** Dedicated to Lord Shiva, the one who can destroy the world, but chooses not to. Wish you a Happy Mahashivratri! In 2018, I clicked this picture of Panchmukhi Shivling , located at the top of Chandrashila Peak , right above Tungnath Temple , the highest Shiva temple in the world.

*** I am haunted by humans. It's not a line I came up with. I am not that good a writer. This sentence is from my favourite book. I won't reveal the name, because I don't need to. If the sentence was good enough to pique your interest, you might have already arrived at the answer by the space-age device called Google. (If reading this in 2025 or later, replace Google with ChatGPT, Perplexity, Meta AI or Gemini). There was a time when you had to know the right books or the right people to be aware of things. And asking a question, a genuine, spontaneous query uttered out loud, wasn't met with a look of disdain, but of wonder. Your inquisitiveness wasn't snubbed by the phrase: Why don't you Google it? I recall asking a question during an age when the internet wasn't as commonplace as it is now. Is Alexander Fleming related to Stephen Fleming, the New Zealand Cricket team captain? My biology teacher had no answer, nor did my friends. It wasn't relevant to t...

*** Leave In the morning, Return In the evening, Get lost Somewhere in between. So it goes... Seeking diamonds All day long, Hours slip Like layers of graphite, Amorphous dreams Gather in the night. So it goes... Mind roaming The mountain valleys, Heart left behind In the hometown, Stuck in the city, Body and soul. So it goes... *** Did you like what you read? Leave a comment!