I always like to read between the lines, examine every word with microscopic precision but trust me nothing beats the communication that silence does, hitting out at the unwarranted fame vocabulary holds in the minds of the speakers.. Every single time I close my eyes, what I am reminded are not words but silence.
Not all types of silence are good. There are some which are hideous, quiet approval of injustice and there are few things which are as inhuman as this. Coming from friends, it might just hurt you a little more than what you are capable of bearing with.
The other type of silence is when someone is strapped for words, when he/she becomes aware of the inadequacy of vocal communication, hence resorting to the magical silence. You only have to read between the lips where the unspoken words rest in a state of unrest. You have to read it between the eyes where the eyebrows do express a lot more than what any word can ever express. You only have to catch the twitch in the facial muscles to see which way the emotion is flowing in the veins.. Poets call it romantic and so would I as long as there is no burden of pay back. Love that is not talked is perhaps very strong but given the materialistic nature of the world these days, it may not pass the test of time.. The best does not last forever..
The third type is the silence of the dead. Probably the dead doesn't want to say anything more, may be he/she is too tired already to say anything, assuming that all actions in the physical world move us closer to the state of equilibrium/stability silence offers exactly the same! The people around the dead body may again assume silence on their lips which is the muted frustration at the high handedness of God, thus giving rise to the fourth type of silence...
Fifth & final type is the feeling of ecstasy, similar to what you feel when you bump into an old friend unexpectedly, similar to what you experience when you taste victory in the times when defeat seemed the only real possibility, definitely similar to the sight of your love just when you had thought all that was forlorn..
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Some thoughts..
It was a hectic day, there was something eerie about the evening. It is said you see aurae on some days, well I was getting it almost every day, about its inevitability. Yeah there was little scope of any reconciliation. I had not felt good for a long time now.
Pondering over the thought "What makes a man 'MAN'" I sipped more tea from my tiny cup. What separates man from hu'man' is his righteousness? A certain man adhering to moral principles is certainly not my idea of a real man. I will tell you a short story here. Not a very long one I promise.
Chandan, a boy of about 20 was wandering through the streets of Patna in search of destiny, yes indeed, fate had deserted him at least he thought it did while he was still searching for it. A friend of him Vasi, similar achievements in life so far, but annoyingly for Chandan the similarity ended just there. Chandan couldn’t match his friend in any respect. What bothered him more was his inability to succeed, not that he didn't try at all, he did try very hard but couldn't cross the fence even once. Add another 10 years to his life, another 20 years of grey colour to his hair, 30 years of intellect and an infinite sense of frustration. He was incapable of socializing, he was never comfortable in any company except that of himself, was not even eating for 10 days now. Milk too was not delivered as he had failed to pay on several occasions even after angry reminders. He was thirsty.
"Knock, Knock”, creaked the door as Chandan opened after much deliberations on whether to open or not to open. Stood there Vasi, a seemingly rich man looking like a teenager even now. “What have you done to yourself Chandan?" - mouthed Vasi hiding the diabolical pleasure of seeing a failed friend behind his artificially contorted serious looking face. Vasi went on with his false words of consolations, words which had no meaning in his lexicon. Chandan thought Vasi was abusing him, laughing in his face at his perceived failure. He never felt so excited than he was now. Chandan's life flashed before his eyes, his bitter relationship at home, unfaithful friends and an unrequited love, may be now was the chance to get even with fate, achieve some material pleasure!
"Why have I never wanted it?" In that ague of excitement he picked up his towel that was hanging on his door and rushed toward Vasi who was not sure why Chandan was so happy? Vasi's face was soon covered by the towel and his breath choked. The diaphragms found it difficult to breathe, that’s when Vasi's legs had been shaking violently to expedite the escape. Chandan was pushing the towel harder on his face and yes the moment of glory had indeed arrived. Man prevailed over the evil.
Chandan was not a typical man, therefore he killed one hu'man' so that the earth was less evil. His was a self assumed responsibility to keep this earth free of what he thought were evil. He may not have succeeded in his life in the material sense of the word but he was at peace with himself, he never wanted to be a millionaire. What ached him more were the pretentious looking faces who blurted one abuse after another by offering meaningless consolations. His reaction may be extreme but is it necessary for a man to pretend with everyone or better said cheat on everyone, smile fakingly, hide the truth, remain unfaithful, not keep the promise? Isn't it better that he should recede from the society, find his own place under the sun. Only then will he become a Man, a man who was at least faithful to his reason of existence. Did I forget to mention what's a man's raison d’être? Haven't you figured it out as yet?
Pondering over the thought "What makes a man 'MAN'" I sipped more tea from my tiny cup. What separates man from hu'man' is his righteousness? A certain man adhering to moral principles is certainly not my idea of a real man. I will tell you a short story here. Not a very long one I promise.
Chandan, a boy of about 20 was wandering through the streets of Patna in search of destiny, yes indeed, fate had deserted him at least he thought it did while he was still searching for it. A friend of him Vasi, similar achievements in life so far, but annoyingly for Chandan the similarity ended just there. Chandan couldn’t match his friend in any respect. What bothered him more was his inability to succeed, not that he didn't try at all, he did try very hard but couldn't cross the fence even once. Add another 10 years to his life, another 20 years of grey colour to his hair, 30 years of intellect and an infinite sense of frustration. He was incapable of socializing, he was never comfortable in any company except that of himself, was not even eating for 10 days now. Milk too was not delivered as he had failed to pay on several occasions even after angry reminders. He was thirsty.
"Knock, Knock”, creaked the door as Chandan opened after much deliberations on whether to open or not to open. Stood there Vasi, a seemingly rich man looking like a teenager even now. “What have you done to yourself Chandan?" - mouthed Vasi hiding the diabolical pleasure of seeing a failed friend behind his artificially contorted serious looking face. Vasi went on with his false words of consolations, words which had no meaning in his lexicon. Chandan thought Vasi was abusing him, laughing in his face at his perceived failure. He never felt so excited than he was now. Chandan's life flashed before his eyes, his bitter relationship at home, unfaithful friends and an unrequited love, may be now was the chance to get even with fate, achieve some material pleasure!
"Why have I never wanted it?" In that ague of excitement he picked up his towel that was hanging on his door and rushed toward Vasi who was not sure why Chandan was so happy? Vasi's face was soon covered by the towel and his breath choked. The diaphragms found it difficult to breathe, that’s when Vasi's legs had been shaking violently to expedite the escape. Chandan was pushing the towel harder on his face and yes the moment of glory had indeed arrived. Man prevailed over the evil.
Chandan was not a typical man, therefore he killed one hu'man' so that the earth was less evil. His was a self assumed responsibility to keep this earth free of what he thought were evil. He may not have succeeded in his life in the material sense of the word but he was at peace with himself, he never wanted to be a millionaire. What ached him more were the pretentious looking faces who blurted one abuse after another by offering meaningless consolations. His reaction may be extreme but is it necessary for a man to pretend with everyone or better said cheat on everyone, smile fakingly, hide the truth, remain unfaithful, not keep the promise? Isn't it better that he should recede from the society, find his own place under the sun. Only then will he become a Man, a man who was at least faithful to his reason of existence. Did I forget to mention what's a man's raison d’être? Haven't you figured it out as yet?
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