On the terrace of my home, on
this cloudy evening, I sat down for some time to honour the silence in me. With
folded legs and an open heart, I closed my eyes to seek some sense. I could
hear the wind breezing around the corner, I could hear it in the leaves that
mumbled. A few birds chirped and the insects buzzed. A crow cried it’s story
out and horns blew every now and then. When was the last time I sat down this
way to listen, to the world around and to the voice inside?
I remember how careful I was up
until a few years ago, not to use the word “life” in anything I said or wrote,
for it intimidated me. I thought, here I am, a tiny tiny human on a tiny land
with a pea size experience of light and dark; who am I to talk about this four
dimensional world of meat and miseries!? But somewhere in the frenzy of growing
up, the fear subsided, paving way for arrogant thoughts and head strong
statements.
It was not so much the process of
growing up itself, but the way changes took place around my-self which influenced
this process and shook the fear factor away. Change being the only constant, we’ve
respected and resisted it on varying degrees from within a certain distance in
all those years and yet was not prepared for the magnitude with which it hit us
hard on the face, and smiled ever so stylishly.
What really
got me was the way this ginormous tide was sweeping over the platforms of human
expression and authoritatively claiming every bit of it. The stingiest of
stingy expressed himself so flamboyantly, leaving the audience mute spectators
of an overnight circus. Oh, how I resisted the temptation to join the show! Or should
I even put it that way for it never interested me enough to tempt me.
But the world
moved so swiftly, like never before, and I being the teenage girl I was whose
peer pressure on the topic was directly proportional to the pace of the world,
gave up to an unduly heated argument on a fine Sunday evening, and joined the ‘web’.
And that, I believe, was the end of the most creative era of my existence.
What mostly
followed my little ‘social’ adventure were mindless clatter, misplaced
curiosity and disrespect towards the beauty of silence. There is a thought
formed inside my little head long time ago (there isn’t many recent thoughts to
boast off in there, it seems!), that the romance of silence with the music of
nature is home to all our creative endeavours, no matter what the medium of
expression is. Magic happens when you listen to your silence.
In these times
when noise is easily mistaken for voice and voice is often unheard, I failed to
serve my creative genie and to attend its call. But I’ve learned, and hence
understand that unlike any human of our times, universe is patient and
permissive. It accepts apology without conditions and lets you grow again; for the mother of hope knows it well, what is life without a second chance?!
I loved it... Keep writing !!
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