The Road Not Taken…

Silence lets the universe be. It’s a mystic union, a beckoning expression. It’s difficult to interpret, even more onerous to break. The storm, the turmoil, the beseeching despondency, so much lies beneath. When words become unclear, when images become inadequate, we learn to be content with silence. But maybe some people choose to be silent to stonewall themselves from the unknown, to squelch the dying human inside, to abolish the hurt. They are scared of becoming vulnerable, of feeling exposed and unclad in front of the world. They drink up their words, gulp down the feelings, and plug the outlets.  The chaos jabs and stings the insides. What lies beneath? Why do such people succumb to their own riddles? Why don’t they express?

The platonic expressions, the unanswered questions, the everlasting silence. What do these call for? It’s a mystery. Some of them know, it’s leading them nowhere; they try to come out of the cage, but something or the other keeps pulling them back, leading to another era of silence and numbness.

People who wear no expressions, people who eat up their words intrigue me to the extent infinity. They are boxes of puzzles, they stand in a crowd yet they stand out. They laugh with the world, but die a little inside every second. They let the insecurities and perplexities predominate. No matter how much you try to get them out of their dark hole, they won’t come out. In the end, it’ll be you who’ll get frustrated and end up feeling crestfallen and incapacitated. They play a different music, music that no one else can hear. Their music lies not in the notes, but the silence in between. Expressions for them are something alien, something they haven’t been addressed to. They wear a mask all the time, too scared to let it fall off. They sit alone and ponder their despair, the seclusion, the delusion, the illusion!

Seeing them fastening their emotions, sometimes I feel, maybe even silence has a sound. He, who does not connote, has killed himself several times in his mind already. You don’t know whether to treat them with love or strive to make yourself heard. We lash out, weep, scream, struggle but it makes no difference to them, not because they’re heartless, because they don’t know any way out. They are as helpless, as paralyzed as us. They are way too wrapped up in silence to peel it off layer by layer. They like their cocoon, the warmth, the loneliness which no one can encroach or trespass.

For people like us, who believe in wearing our smiles on our sleeves, speaking our minds out, such placidity and stillness is too difficult to comprehend. We start making our own equations, go about finding our own answers, measuring all possible angles to quiet the noise screeching inside, the noise of giving up, letting go, the noise of frustration, agony and withering love. They distance themselves from everyone they love or care about because they don’t want them to get hurt by the barbs they've glued around themselves. Don’t those secrets and curiosities burn them inside, doesn't the dispassion disarm them? Why, why, why? Why can’t they let us be a part of them, why are they so scared of letting anyone close to them? And if someone comes close, why do they push them away? Aren't they aware of the contusion, hurt and pain they are subjecting us to?  They somehow prefer silence to saying something which is not everything that should be said. 

The silence between us is flung wide, I wish I could manage to cross it and wrap my arms around, see the patterns changing, appreciate the eloquence of the silence, but maybe I don’t have the courage to. I’ll just have to wait for the human-shaped emptiness to transit into a beautiful expression which lasts till everlastingness. Love gushes out, the words spill on the floor, so much that it becomes difficult to contain. At he same time, I also want to learn to love the silence, make it mine. Hear the unsaid words, fathom the tranquility and make it sound beautiful like the sound of breeze and waves and lullabies and not the sound of disappearance or the silence before the storm. I want to find the glee in the substance of silence; because that’s the only way I can carry silence without spilling a drop.  When you hold a guarded and shelled someone close to your heart, you learn to believe that silence is beautiful, so beautiful that even words are a sort of profanity!

And the rest is just rust and stardust... 

“The world's continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.”
-Claric

And never let them tell you
that silence, isn't beautiful.
For silence is what happens
when words fall asleep
and you must carry the belief
that one day they will
wake up inside of you.” 
             ― Christopher Poindexter

“There is a silence that comes to a house when no one can sleep. I guess it's the price of love; I know it's not cheap.” 
             ― U2

Silence lies in the deepest of oceans, the wildest of winds, the loudest of music and the noisiest of crowds. Silence is the speech of the hollow, the song of the suppressed  the words of the lacerated. Who says silence cannot be heard, you need not ears but serenity to feel the words embedded within the indolence!!

               -Akankshaa Diksha Sharma