Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

Nitin was utterly shocked when he woke up on Saturday morning with a hangover and without any recollection of what had transpired the previous night. He had been drunk before. He had lost all of his senses before. But everything always came back to him the next morning. However, that day, it didn't; complete blackout. There must have been something bizarre in that drink. Over the course of the week, though, he started remembering flashes of it and began looking for an opportunity to talk to Sandhya, sober and alone. The weather had taken a sharp turn today. A sweltering sunny day gave way to a cloudy evening with thrashing winds. As everyone raced to the office window to watch the scene unfolding outside, Nitin saw Sandhya signalling to him by pressing two fingers to her lips. He couldn’t help but smile. She knew he loved to smoke in this weather. After all, she was his smoking partner in the office. Together, they went downstairs, but as soon as they stepped out of the building, t...

It was one of those days when it felt like it was going to rain but it did not; a day when all outdoor pursuits are put on hold because no one knows the will of those flying water canisters. The dark grey clouds had been playing hide and seek with the Sun the entire day. Come evening, there was a flash of lightning followed by thunder. It only increased the anticipation. The children of the buffalo men gathered in the street. Following their lead, the streets poured with adamant children who had successfully evaded the watchful eyes of their parents. Their heads turned to the sky, their excitement poured from their eyes. They had already choreographed their dance in their minds. But, the rain didn’t come. The clouds were holding themselves back, waiting for one last attendee. A certain someone who once used to be the first to greet the clouds when they arrived by rushing to the terrace at the first sound of thunder. She now stood under the awning, looking at the clouds, having last tho...

       A moonless night it was, although one could hardly sense the lunar absence. All around shimmered lights of different colours. Now and then, the sky erupted with bursts of various hues. Also, the night was noisy. Sudden blasts of sound, a boom here and a boom there echoed the surroundings. Each boom accompanied a puff of smoke which rose higher and higher and then melted into nothingness. For night gazers across the country, apparently, the night sky was overwhelmingly full of meteor showers; some of these just raced across the sky and exploded while the others broke into streaks of light that pattered the sky and faded away. These, however, differed from the usual ones in one regard; these meteors originated from the ground, not the sky. And not so surprisingly, a few gave away miniature parachutes after exploding.    The night lengthened. The lady was on a tight schedule; visiting millions of houses across the country in a single night was...

   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....

   Retrospection, one of the innumerable gifts we humans have been blessed with. We often find ourselves looking back in our past, poring over the memories, cherishing the good ones and sighing over the bitter ones. Diving into the sea of memories serves as a coping mechanism whenever we feel low or lonely.    Among these, a giant urn of memories belongs to our schooldays. Don’t know much about other schools but leading a hostel life of Sainik School is way different than others; Waking up at 5, cursing our stars; hesitantly dragging our feet to the ground, half-awake; the whistle of the P.T.I echoing the field; seniors ruthlessly exercising their juniors and if you are lucky indeed you don’t have to jump like a frog all the way back to the hostel. And if the workout in the fields wasn't enough, well, the seniors are always there at your service in the hostel corridor. Such a fine way to start the day!    It has been four years and st...

   Her hand rose and tucked the loosened locks of hair back to place revealing a pair of well-shaped eyebrows flanking her kohl eyes on either side of a round nose, where a nose pin sat beautifully in its place, visible occasionally when she turned towards the window.    Her mother was busy conversing with others in the compartment. She smiled at intervals, listening to her mother’s talks, and her pinkish lips gave away a fine set of well-shaped incisors. Her face flushed when she smiled as a consequence of which a rosy tint filled her fair cheeks.    She was dressed in black jeans and a yellow V-neck kurti, with sleeves running halfway down her forearm; she wore no jewelry besides her nose pin. Also, a stole wrapped around her neck, hung low above her bosom, as it should be, a barricade for unwelcome onlookers.    She took a sip from the bottle; her cheeks bulged for a moment, and then flattened. A drop of water evaded her li...

He laid in wait, planning the kill. His eyes gleamed like red fire emanating from purgatory. All of his senses were at full alert. His tongue hung out with drops of drool at its tip. Now and then he moved his tongue across his lips, anticipating the aftermath of the kill. A faint growl broke his trance. His ears perked up and eyes grew wider looking around for familiar signs: a rustle of leaves or crunching of twigs or a trace of the prey’s scent. He found none. The next time being prepared for it, the sound was more pronounced. Then it came to him. A glance at his belly confirmed his suspicion. The sound came from nowhere but from his insides. What else had he expected! He had not fed for days; lying there waiting for the ultimate big game. A few such days and he’d be no better than dead. The wait prolonged and his appetite intensified manifold; his belly howled in protest. Long waits bear sweet fruits (in this case: flesh), he repeatedly consoled himself. But deep down he knew that ...