Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

On approaching the traffic light, he accelerated hard. The countdown for the red light had begun. He could make it. There was a scooty up ahead. If only he could overtake it.  He swerved to the right but at the same time, the scooty driver did the same. The brake light glowed and the scooty came to a stop. He applied the brakes hard.  In a split second, he felt the tires skid under him, his legs flailing to find balance. At that moment, he knew he was going to crash. Om Namah Shivay A mixture of thoughts and words came out as he braced for impact. He wasn't religious like his mother. But he wasn't an atheist either. He believed that there must be some kind of management up there, some kind of governance, just like humans had down here. Not necessarily fixating on each and every move of each and every human being, just overseeing the grand scheme, whatever that was. Opposed to the common pundits, who encouraged taking God's name multiple times during the day, he believed tha...

Tick tock  Tick tock Morning prayer What to wear Vehicles' blare Going nowhere Upright chair No moment spare  Boss' scare Opportunity rare Colleagues swear Everyone beware Tick tock  Tick tock Nightly affair  Musical air Friends declare  Life’s unfair  Don’t compare Grow a pair Neon glare Moonlit flare Room of despair Wall clock's stare Tick tock Tick tock ***

Two things are prominent in the lecture hall.  Ms. Kulkarni's voice and the students scribbling away, trying to match their pace with hers. Vishal's notebook is filled with encircled words and arrows pointing towards them. Time and again, his mind turns on a famous Bollywood number of the 90s. Or he goes back to his schooldays, attending Biology class learning Taxonomy. Somehow, the lecture on International Trade Operation and Documentation seems similar to that.  When he manages to snuff all that, his mind races to something else entirely. He jots down a few lines then passes the note to his friend, Shekhar sitting beside him who goes through the lines and lets out a chuckle. A little too loud for the class. "What happened?" Ms. Kulkarni, approaches the front row, while Shekhar tries to hide the note. "Show me that!" Shekhar reluctantly hands it over. She then proceeds to read the note out loud. "Our coffee comes In strong brown sacks Load well,  but n...

Lurking in the distance On the other side   Of the office windows  The grey sky And the advancing clouds Brought forth a fervour Never seen before In a colleague of mine Ctrl + S Windows + L Then he rushed me Down the elevator  And we were at the tea stall Next to the Exit Gate No words were required His mere presence was enough The shopkeeper held out Without any prompt A cigarette in his hand  Raindrops fell Few and harmless The wind grew stronger though  But my colleague didn't worry To light the cigarette He brought forth his Zippo Whose burning flame No wind could tame But before he could savour The first intake  The cigarette fell to the ground A flash of lightning A moment not lost  He picked it up And took a drag Noticing the dirty look I gave He smiled and said,  Unhealthy, huh? Fair enough,  I smiled back. And he let out another puff of smoke  Matching the grey of the sky. ***

The Sun sets, bringing the day’s battle to a close. Bhishma Pitamah lies on a bed of arrows. One by one, the Pandavas and the Kauravas gather around him. To collect blessings. To learn one last lesson from the wise soul. " You would have met a lot of people over the course of your life. You'll meet even more. And if you are lucky enough ,” Bhishma Pitamah takes a long look at everyone, before fixing his gaze on Arjuna. “ One of them will literally lay down a bed of arrows for you to sleep while you are taking your last breath. Not just that, he’ll even make you feel grateful about it. Stay away from those assholes ." "But…” Arjuna bears a perplexed look, standing beside Krishna. “I did it so that your body did not suffer the dishonour of touching the ground." "What a truckload of bull crap is that,” replies Bhishma. “Couldn't you have just conjured a comfortable bed from one of those magical arrows? It hurts, asshole. I wish Hawkeye were here. Might h...

Like so many times before, he’s holding a cigarette between his fingers. He observes the orange glow leaving behind a grey residue. And suddenly, a thought strikes his mind. Why does Sean Bean die in every popular movie or TV series that he is aware of? An esoteric mystery for a selected few. An absurdity for the rest. He carries that question in his head, long after the orange glow dies out. And for days after, whenever he picks another cigarette, the same question harks at him again. At last, one fine day, holding another cigarette, a moment of epiphany jolts him. The answer is finally here. An answer that he knew all along. Sean Bean: that’s the name. The words themselves play a cruel joke on the universe. In spite of being spelled in a similar fashion, they are pronounced differently. The first name ‘Sean’ is pronounced as ‘Shawn’ (as in Shawn Michaels) and the last name ‘Bean’ (as in Mr. Bean). The pronunciation of his name should have been consistent throughout. Either, it should...

2001: Drop a postcard every week. 2002: Call on the neighbor's telephone once you reach. 2003: Clear the entrance test. 2004: Well done! Here's your reward: a wristwatch. 2005: I bought a mobile phone. Now, you can talk to your mother anytime you want. 2006: Get up early. Play some sports. 2007: Don't go wandering in the mountains. 2008: Here's some extra. Spend it. Save it. As you wish. 2009: You are not going to Kota. 2010: Buy yourself a mobile phone. Then, you can talk to your mother anytime you want. 2011: Do whatever you want. Just do it well. 2012: You tried. You failed. Move on. 2013: It was just bad luck. Not your fault. Move on. 2014: Govt job? No? Fine. Then what? MBA? Ok. 2015: Take care of your sister 2016: Congratulations! 2017: Don't travel so much. You'll find it difficult to stay put. 2018: Invest here. Invest there. 2019: Sit. Here's how to do your taxes. 2020: Get married. 2021: Promotion? 2022: Congratulations!

"It's a typo," I interrupt my sister. "Correct it." She's working from home and I am on leave and have got nothing better to do. "No, it's not," she replies after pondering for a while. "Ok, there's no such thing as CECPA," I begin. "It's CEPA - free trade agreement between India and South Korea. Don't you remember? A year ago, I told you that this will be the first thing your interviewers ask you. And then...there's CECA - a free trade agreement between Indian and Malaysia, and I think Singapore also. Anyway, my point is... there is no such thing as CECPA." "Actually, my dear brother," she smiles. "There is. CECPA is a free trade agreement between India and Mauritius." I stand there silent for a moment. Didn't I have all the FTAs on the tips of my tongue? Yes, I left college almost four years ago but I did teach all that stuff to my sister, just a year ago. I go over the acronym again...

A backpack of responsibilities She carries on her shoulders Leading a team of 23 More or less Yet at the end of the day Appears so carefree Over every high rise Down every descent She walks with a spring in her steps She's fit And she's cute She also maintains a calm composure Just like the company of mountains she keeps And whenever she passes you by Through her teeth, she smiles Draining your fatigue away And at the end of the day She spouts words of wisdom One after another It all makes me wonder God, is she really 23 Now, we are in Gurdum And our journey is almost done I hope she's satisfied That we stayed true To what she believes in That we left the mountains Better than we found it. Dedicated to my Trek Leader on Sandakphu Phalut Trek - Swarada

Seven decades and a half It has been that long Since the tyranny ended. The looters galloped away On their high horses Leaving us broken In parts and pieces.   Their horses today Graze on grassy highlands. And from top of their mount They laugh, Watching their vacant chairs Occupied by men well-chosen Still, tyrants in their own right.   Seven decades and a half We have built a lot But freedom goes either way. Free to rise, free to fall. Where do we go from here? So we don’t end up where we were Broken in parts and pieces. #HappyIndependenceDay #IndiaAt75

Dear Modi Ji, Thanks for the honour. It feels great to know that even after all these years, my achievements are brought to the fore and regarded in such a manner. Though, I feel you shouldn't have taken the trouble. I, anyway, receive a lot of love when everyone celebrates National Sports Day on my birthday. Now by renaming an award that was formerly dedicated to an erstwhile PM, you have dragged me into something I was never interested in. Politics. As usual, the tirade will follow. Congress lamenting: WHY? Your party commenting: WHY NOT? Amidst all this, the men and women who have done nothing but strive for success, who rarely receive the limelight will recede in shadows once again. Someone as competent as you must have seen this coming for I'm sure this wasn't deliberate. You had your heart in the right place and you just wanted to honour me. But this honour that you bestow on me is also accompanied by a sadness, a realisation that in light of our recent achievement, y...

They have gathered once again Like every other year In spite of the outbreak Plaguing the entire land God is their last resort Having lost their hopes in men God brought the pandemic God will bless this cursed land Or so they have come to believe.   They have gathered once again Out on the streets Listening tentatively To the promises made To the slogans in the air For in that moment All of it matters Their voice, their choice Or so they have come to believe.   They have gathered once again Glued to the screens Cheering the champions Who are well out of earshot A game of gentlemen Two play at a time The rest of them await their turn It's all spontaneous Or so they have come to believe.   They have gathered once again In a suspended ambience Glasses in their hands Smoke in the air Ash on the ground Boasting about Women they bedded Men they punched Unmindful of all the gatherings everywhere.   ...

  “We should have booked a four-wheeler for today,” suggests Ajay, taking a break from kick-starting his bike. Sooner or later, the wisdom of hindsight comes to all of us. And right now, it pours out of my friend, only to be frozen mid-air. Just like me, he is covered from head to toe in multiple layers. There is no one in sight except the two of us and the occasional vehicles passing by, halting at the sight of our thumbs out, only to refuse to give us a ride. “Maybe, we should chuck it and chill in Lachen itself.” NO. The voice in my head shouts then takes a moment to think, dials it down to a pleading voice: No no no. This can’t happen. We are not far from the homestay we had stayed last night. I find some comfort in that as Ajay now has to roll it downhill back to where we had begun in the morning. The owner’s daughter smiles at us from the balcony when we reach the homestay. She is a good company but right now I need to be someplace else. After all, we had come all...

Somebody whispers my name from the back. I ignore it for the umpteenth time, concentrating on the homework. Six to eight in the evening is called Prep time. Once the games period is over, we spend two hours in the classroom going through our books and notes. At least everyone pretends to. The two hours are spent scribbling on notebooks, playing TIC TAC TOE and for the most part poking the guy sitting in the front. "What!" I turn around, glaring at the boy who poked me. His name is Ujjwal, one of the infamous lot, the kind whom my mother warns to stay away from. “Here, see this,” he produces a piece of paper, completely unfazed by my irritation. I take a look at the paper and then at the teacher sitting in the front. Our English teacher. He is old of age and nearing retirement. For the entire two hours, he remains confined to his chair. And his nodding- off serves as an artistic inspiration for many, who crudely put it on paper. One of those many sketches is right befo...

  “So that’s why the name Varanasi,” Vishal uttered his epiphany out loud. “Varuna plus Assi?” “Obviously,” replied Somnath. “Didn’t you know that?” “Never thought about it. I guess, for me, it has always been Benares.” That was then, more than two years ago. As of this moment, Vishal could give a personalized tour of Benares, all by himself. And that is exactly what he has been doing with Sheth and Ajay for the past few days while Somnath was making arrangements for his wedding. Still, Vishal won’t go as far as comparing himself with the resident Benaresi, who according to his plan, has joined the three of them tonight. A day after he got married, miracle, huh? Well, things always line up for Vishal when it comes to these sorts of things. In this case, a custom called: Kaalratri, where the boy – scratch that – groom – no – husband cannot see his wife, post-dusk, one day after marriage. So here was Somnath, the oldest one of them, telling stories about the oldest city known; ...

On the shore  And the night is slipping through my hand  I fall into the sea  Like the empire built on the sand  The song going on in my head is interrupted by the rumble of the crashing waves. It brings me back to the present. Once again, gazing at the distant horizon, I had gotten lost in my thoughts. But then again, wasn’t that the whole purpose of coming here.  It was Subhodeep who had introduced me to this place. A friend of a mutual friend, he is one of the inmates at Sheetal Apartments, Juhu where I am staying temporarily. On my first day here, he did not lose a moment after I stepped through the door to announce that Ajay Devgn stayed on the ground floor. He related the story of some fortunate fellow who had gotten the opportunity to click a selfie with the actor. That evening, he showed me around, starting with ISCKON temple that was located nearby. There I had a Dabeli for the first time. Two of those and you don't need dinner , he told me. From there,...

Sometime in 2004 I must have dozed off. But suddenly I am awake. The screen is mostly dark. On concentrating further, I can make out a lake during night. There’s a man lying alongside it, whimpering in pain. Close to him sits a bespectacled boy who is terrified by the dark figures hovering in the air, circumventing the two of them. One of the dark figures breaks from the rest and swoops in, and on getting close to the man drains his face somehow. The man winces in pain. The boy tries to protect him, shooting a burst of light at the dark figures with the stick he’s holding. The figures are deterred for a moment but they double back, one by one, draining both the man and the boy. Just then a silver stag appears across the lake, driving all the dark figures away by its light. And the boy faints. I can make neither head nor tail of the scene. Somehow, I manage to sit through the rest of the movie. Why it is so dark even during the day; must be because of the poor picture quality. There...

July 20, 2020 As a teenager  All I needed was  A pocketful of cash  To make my dream come true  To see a man in person  Whose only words I knew  Towering over the crowd  Amid cheers and applause  More than sometimes  Screaming in angst  He was – still is  The voice in my head  For when I open my eyes  The room is empty  There is no crowd  Nobody to applaud  The teenage dream is lost  As he is long gone  But, why dismay  Life ends, ends the disarray  I close my eyes  Words pour out  And for a brief moment  He and I are one and the same  July 20, 2019 Another year and another day have gone by. I am alone in my room, far away from family and friends; as if that had ever comforted me. I pore over the words scribbled before me. Random fragment of sentences, written haphazardly, they don’t make sense. I had jotted it down last year but couldn’t produce something meaningful ...