Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

Phobjikha valley in Bhutan, also known as Gangteng Valley is named after the impressive Gangteng Monastery of the Nyingma sect in central Bhutan. At an average altitude of 3,000 metres, the valley is the most significant wintering ground of the rare and endangered Black‐necked cranes in Bhutan who migrate from the Tibetan Plateau to visit the valley during the winter season to roost. Original pic  of a blacked-necked crane sheltered at Crane Observatory, Phobjikha undergoing recovery.  Date taken:  June 16, 2017   The Black-neckedCrane (Grus nigricollis) is a medium-sized crane in Asia that breeds on the Tibetan Plateau and winters mainly in remote parts of India and Bhutan. The valley has been protected since time immemorial by the local people’s traditional respect for all living beings. As a result, over 300 cranes migrate to Bhutan to spend their winter months in this valley. There is a Crane Obser...

    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 fes...

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 ...

   Go to sleep, you tell yourself for the umpteenth time. You have a test tomorrow.    Worried about the prospect of the next morning, you take a detour from your usual routine and go to bed early. And early for you means 2:00 AM. You lie on your bed and let out a breath of sigh. Then you close your eyes and urge yourself to sleep. Your brain, however, has something entirely different planned for you.    Why are there more than one movie based on Steve Jobs’ life. He died of Cancer, so sad. The world lost a gem. What would he have felt while dying? Where would he be, now: some heavenly place or is he just…… absent?    When will George RR Martin release the next book? So much time has passed. He has grown old. Please don’t die before completing the series. That’s so selfish! But, whatever!    Then someday J K Rowling……OMG! No, not her. But death is a certainty which none can escape. Still, the realization that she wi...

   What's wrong, my mother asked. She must have noticed something off in my voice. So, I tried my best to bring out my normal voice and replied, nothing, why!?    She didn't persist. We went about our usual talk on the phone; how was I, how was my day, did I have my dinner etc. But after a while, she asked again, what's wrong; this time she persisted.    Remember, Harry Potter?    Hmm, what about it!    One of the actors died.    Who? Hermione? My mother is not a Harry Potter enthusiast but she tries to keep up with her son's interests.    No, Snape.    Ohh!! That bad teacher. Normally, I enter into a debate with whosoever makes a bad remark about Snape. But, my mother hardly knew what she was talking about.    Wow, son!! She said after a pause. You are grieving for a person you didn't even know. I wonder what you will do after my death.    MAA!! ...

   Normally, I abstain from political talks but it has become harder to do so these days. Whenever I log in to my Facebook account, my news feed is filled with what’s going on in the country these days and more often than not, those posts seem ludicrous to me; mostly about the ones that the people, these days, have come to call ‘intolerance’. One party says that the country is intolerant; in reply, the other party says it isn’t. Some return awards while a few notable ones are asked to leave the country. The talks of ‘intolerance’ have unbelievably left the talks about Cricket behind.    A widow returns her husband’s medal ‘coz a terrorist goes unpunished, that I can understand. I can empathise with her rage and disappointment. But this I don’t understand; so many learned people returning their own awards. It’s no less than an insult to return the honour they have been given.    People ask: why our PM is silent? The answer would be: ‘coz he’s bu...

   I don't know if anyone of you has ever faced this situation in your life. But I have. And I am being nothing but truthful.    The old man was trailing me for some time now. It was getting awkward. So, I quickened my steps, trying to loose him. I finally did.    I stopped at a vendor for a glass of juice. While I waited, to my surprise, the old man appeared out of nowhere, bearded and wearing shabby clothes and holding a walking stick in his hand. He started gesturing with his right hand, wanting something to eat. I ignored him, but kept looking at him through the corner of my eye.  It was a public place. People were miling around. A few more people stopped by the juice stall. All this time, the old man stood there,  repeatedly pointing his joined fingers towards his mouth and kept bobbing his head.  It was getting so uncomfortable for me. I just wanted to finish my juice and get out of there. At last, my glass of juice arrived....

    Aug 14, 2015     11:00 PM    Shandaar. Jabarjast. Jindabaad.    While everyone’s Facebook and WhatsApp updates flooded the Internet and everyone got their profile and cover pics turned into shades of Saffron, White and Green, I was busy watching this wonderful movie – Manjhi, The Mountain Man – on my laptop. Yeah, yeah, it’s not released yet, but some guys get lucky on Torrent. I know piracy is illegal, but so is watching porn. Haha. Bad luck for the movie-makers, though. But I don’t share their gloom. Actually, I’m not even a little bit sorry. Watching a movie a week before its official release is a treat, whatsoever.        Being from Bihar, I’ve been to Gaya once or twice. And I grew up listening to my parents’ taunts – pahad tod rahe the kya (You were busy breaking some mountain, or what?) – whenever I didn’t finish my homework on time. I did have some knowledge about some man who cut a path through a p...

   The monument stands tall, in its full glory, held together not just by mortar but by the souls of those thousands of immortal soldiers and warriors who lost their lives in numerous battles on lands, foreign and home alike. Below it stands a reversed rifle capped by a war helmet and the Amar Jawan Jyoti blazing in the morning light, sways with the wind, fearless and confident. The All India War Memorial maintains a silent vigil as the procession, showcasing the strength, culture and diversity of this great country passes on. The tanks, the missiles and the soldiers in arms, the monument dwarfs everything.    A person came from across the seven seas, looks on as the parade unfolds.    Welcome, Mr Obama!    The intricately customised Boeing 747 landed the previous day. I wonder if it really is as sophisticated as Mr Dan Brown described the United States Air Force One; the very name intimidates you, doesn’t it? The im...