Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

I once dreamt I had stopped breathing. Never before Had I felt More at peace With myself... Bereft of any want, Immersed in the quiet That lived On the other side Of the noise, As if the world... It had exhaled, And set me free With a sigh. And when I woke up, I lay still For a moment, Hesitant to rejoin the world, But morning, As it does, Came anyway. And the world... It resumed its rhythmic breathing Without seeking my permission. So I breathed again, Slowly and voluntarily, And made a quiet peace With being here, As long as I was here. *** Liked what I wrote? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

A man wants only one thing, Is what I have understood From the men I have known closely. After the weight of the day is lifted, A calm evening With his lover and kids, When he sips a cup of coffee, While looking at the sun, Setting over a mountain, From the balcony Of the house he built With his hard-earned money. Then, as always, The doorbell signals A welcome interruption, The gang arrives, The engine purrs, And they drive In no direction in particular, With their favourite songs Playing in the background. *** Liked what you read? What do you think men want? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

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...