I sit here on the eve of yet another exam , drawing inference to the term twisted fate. Exams are just like a zit , that appears on an otherwise clean
face , bringing with it the threat of many more to come. The fears of having it burst right open , and having its infection spread , throws one into a
frenzy fit. When you are young it really doesnt matter much . It only when you hit puberty , that zits start appearing. And surprisingly , it finds an
odd co relation with the occurence of some significant even in your life. For those who stayed in Dubai , exams meant taking the fun away from the Dubai
Shopping Festival. The were model exams to prepare for the board exams , and a failure in those, meant a second model exam. If I were a cold cut foot long
on a sub way menu , those exam grilled me to the perfect Hors d’œuvre. And that was just what it remained. The crunch and aroma of it remained for only a
few days , and then it was back to Cold Cuts.
My journey with exams has been like the climate in Canada. Either its cold , or its warm. Whilst my high school experience proclaimed , the flavour of a
rich chocolate eclair , my college experience , carried the stench fo fermented yogurt. Gone were the glory days , when everyone looked at you as a
genius. On the contrary ,the gutters seemed to be a place where no one bothered to give you another look. Bidding goodbye to all those years of education
, carrying nothing but a dented confidence , I foudn myself in search of a job . Exam once again , just words vomited on a piece of paper. There was no
human interaction ,except for the Bold rink of the Rejected sign , which vociferated the shame of a fallen knight. Who cared about the 90% i carried for
17 years of my life. 1 year of my college had taken that away. Rejection after rejection , followed , but then one day perhaps a result of someone
misfortune, I stumbled upon an Approved sign. With nothing to lose , I held close the reigns of my battered house. We rode , like a black horse amongst
the fine white sands, scared to stop , lest we walk no more. in the wind , our shackles borke , the dirt upon our body , vaporized with not much of a
thought. And when i stopped , I was silver among the fine white sands.
I passed on my resumes to those that came. All i saw now , was Approved signs. The marks were same , but the red ink was old. People forgot , but I did
not. Today I sit on the eve of an exam , wondering , what difference does it make . My marks will just be but ink on a paper, justified by the holder of
the pen. Is it who I am ? Is it who I will be? If the zit has to break , it will . If many more come , they will . But will that change who I am ? Is that the definition of beauty and life ?
Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, accumulating for a moment at the bulbous tip of his nose , before finally free falling into the vacant space below. His forearms ached in the cold, as they clung tightly to the metal railing. It had been fifteen minutes , since he had lost the feeling in his toes , all that remained now, was sporadic tingling that rose up the length of his spine.
He turned his eyes towards his watch , straining in the light of the night , to see the time. His eyes remained fixed on the second hand. His mind raced with every movement it made.
It was 5:43. The sun had been forecasted to rise at 5:57.
His eyes followed the cloudy textures to the hills beyond. His eyes felt moist, and for a moment he thought it was a bead of sweat. He wait for the burning sensation , but it never came. It was a ear , the very first of the night. He closed his eyes hoping to hold it back. He was so close , and he could not give in to emotion. It was all practical. He had nothing left to go on.
The wait had been symbolical to him. It represented a new dawn , a beginning where the past would no longer matter. The plan for the first time in many years , was not a complicated. . Nights of contemplating and reasoning had eaten away at the fear of his inevitable destiny. His plan was as simple as a single step into thin air, after that gravity would do its bit. And then there would be no more sleepless nights . The guilty thoughts would vanish , and there would no longer be any loneliness.
He had long lost all his belief in the existence of a God. But the sight in front of him made him doubt his own disbelief. Perhaps God did exist , for such a marvel , no human hand could have painted. Upon the darkened textures of the clouds, shadowed by the silhouettes of distant mountains, the first tinge of orange had appeared. He closed his eyes.
His watched beeped 5:57
The melancholy rose as the gentle breeze caressed the fallen leaves. For those who cared to listen , it seemed like whispers floating in the wind. The sun peaked shyly between the mountains , its orange flair , merging in the darkness of the clouds that rumbled in the distance ahead. The birds had turned silent , and the silence of the tree’s gelled with its surrounding.
The church on the top of the hill , remained just the same as it had been the last year. Old and abandoned , it stood fixed to the ground , protected only by a wrought iron gate and a rusty old padlock. She could see the archways of the gate from where she stood. There were tears in her eyes as she glanced back at the tall, lanky man, who silently gave her a reassuring nod.
A strong gust of wind blew , as she pushed open the gate. She clasped her fingers the rusted iron holding , half expecting it to collapse, but it held on. The pebble strewn path ahead of her , remained the very same. The grass was longer , and she carefully chose her footing, narrowly missing the splattered cow dung on many occasions. The shattered glass pieces on the ground , probably belonged to the broken window ahead. The broken padlock hung lazily on the door. No one had bothered to change it. It only took a simple push to open the termite bitten door.
She covered her nose with her scarf , expecting a dust laden hall. But surprisingly , the hall breathed of life. Windows stood shattered on either side. Their culprits lay on the floor beside them , mangled into a rubbery mass. What had once been the altar for the sacred mass, was now a wicket. The red carpet on which, the glorious choir had once carried the cross , now was just a cricket pitch. Time sure had passed by , and people had forgotten this church , once the new church had been constructed down the hill. Oddly enough , the gully cricket kept the life of this church.
It was not so very long back , when this church had sprouted with life. This church had always been the greatest highlight of Kaksi’s life. Her childhood memories remained within these walls. It was within these walls , that she spent hours mourning the death of her parents. It was within these walls, that Father Dominic , had held her . And it was within these walls , that she was first introduced to the person who she had shared her closest bond with.
‘Ammachy’ as she fondly called her grandmother, had always been old and withered. Kaksi had not known that she had a grandmother, until the day , Father Dominic placed her little hand , within an old wrinkled one. The tear that fell on the clasped hands, had sealed the bond between the two.
There could be no day , better than a Sunday, Kaski would say. Sundays meant sitting beside Ammachy , staring into her animated expressions as , father Dominic’s voice boomed across the hall. Kaksi , would silently count the number of wrinkles on her grandmother’s forehead. Her teacher had once told her , that the age of a tree could be found by counting the number of rings on its bark. Kaksi, had wondered if it was the same with humans.
They said people died , when they got old. Perhaps her parents had ran out of space for their wrinkles. But Ammachy still had a lot of space on her forehead. The fear of being left alone made Kaksi , silently search for vacant spots on Ammachy’s forehead.
That was a very long time back. The pathway which she used to navigate to her mother’s grave, whilst holding Ammachy’s hand, was not hard to find. Kaksi , looked into the horizon ahead , the dark clouds would be upon them soon. She turned back to have a glance at Roy , half expecting him to be irritated. Roy returned her gaze , with yet another reassuring nod.
The wind blew hard , the leaves hurled themselves at her. The graveyard shrieked and cried. Every soul beat their chest , in memory of those who had left them to rot here. It took her a while to find the grave she was looking for . She could see her mother’s tombstone form where she stood , but she did not move. She stared down at the tombstone in front of her. All of a sudden , the place went quiet.
She knelt down in front of a tombstone , that bore marking of her beloved Ammachy. It seemed like it was just yesterday , when Ammachy clasped her chest , whilst she disowned her. It was the following year that Ammachy had died. No one even bothered to inform Kaksi.
Perhaps if Kaksi , had continued counting the wrinkles , she would have realized that her Ammachy was finally running out of space. Kaksi closed her eye, fighting the tear that had swelled up. All alone , and guilt , she felt herself collapse on the granite block that separated her from her Ammachy. A strong hand grasped her . As she looked backed at Roy, her tears flowed as river. Her cries masked by the rumble of the clouds, and then the heavens opened up and cried wit her.
Sometime’s I wish , I was the sun
To shine upon you , with all the warmth I have
A glitter in your eye , to see every day
And then I wonder about the night, when sleep comes to me
No dreams be there , sole the worry of having scorched you
Perhaps , a flower I may be
Colourful and lively , a smile to you
Fragrances divine, your heart seduced
And then I wonder of how short today will be
And tommorrow , when wither and die, I will
Perhaps , I could be so many things
Of so many gifts I wonder
To keep you smile wide and sweet
Yet all I need is to be myself
For my love is deeper than an oceans thirst
Standing on the edge of the balcony , the wait had felt so serene. It did not matter how long it took for the first rays of light to peak over the horizon. I would wait patiently. These rays were symbolical to me as the rays of a new dawn. It naturally felt as the auspicious moment to execute my final plan. There was not a single thought or emotion. The plan, was for the first time in many years , not at all complicated. Nights of contemplating and reasoning had eaten away at the fear of my inevitable destiny. My plan was as simple as a single step , a step into thin air. After that gravity would give it, its final touches. There would be no more sleepless night , no more guilty thoughts and most of all there would no longer be loneliness.
It was 5:43 in the morning, and the cold bit at my skin. The papers had forecasted the sun to rise at 5:57. That gave me fourteen whole minutes. For a person whose 26 years of life was about to come to an end , these fourteen minutes seemed like a torturous eternity. I refused to close my eyes , for I feared the images that would pop up. I fought against the cold and the shivers that had come over my body. I gripped the railing harder as my watch struck 5:50. I willed to look back into my room , to have one last glance at the photo’s of the people who had meant a lot to me, but I could not bring myself to it.
I had left no note. I did not know how to say goodbye. I did not know how to prove that my act was not one of a selfish nature. I had fought as hard as I could, struggled against the tide of life, but life had quit on me. I had been in the face of death many times before, and each survival had only boosted my belief that I was meant for greater things. I , a graduate, from one of the best in the nation, and my education and skills had only provided me with the opportunity to sit in front of a monitor for 13 hours a day , raking mere peanuts under those who were a lot under qualified than myself. The world had stood still for me , when those who had edged past an education had turned out to be more successful. I was rejected by every one, I had cared for. No one had bothered to respond to the text messages I had sent. My phone had remained silent for a very long time. I had waited all night , hoping for the phone to ring. For someone to convince me to fight on . I had hoped for a call from that one person around whom my life had found some meaning.
I did believe in God. After all , such a grand finale could not have been made possible by human hands. Upon the dark palette that filled the sky, the heavens opened its door , and it could have only been the hand of God ,that had started painting across the sky a shade of orange. I closed my eyes .A bead of sweat trickled across my cheeks and merge dwith the tears that I had been unaware of till then.
Out of silence came the first noise that I had heard in the silence of the night. My watched beeped 5:57.
It must have been 9:20. It had to be around 20 minutes , since the last chime ,when I had entered this cold room . But I could never be sure. As of instinct , I looked to my wrist, in search of my $300 watch. But all I saw was the deep imprint of its metal marking. Everything seemed to move so slow in this room. And the shivers of an unrevealed future crawled through my ankles , up to my naked torso. I was bare in this room , covered by only a pale gown , accompanied by this casket , they called an MRI machine.
There was a noise behind me . I turned half expecting , a corpse to role by. It was just the nurse, who perhaps had never known a smile. Her eyes offered no hope, it was cold and steely , business as usual. She touched my arm , and the shivers ran deep. Her needle plunged deep into my veins, and when she drew it back , a drop of red blood stained my pale green gown.
I lay down , facing the white ceiling above . My back rested on nothing but a cold metal surface. She covered me with a blanket . Was it a sign of pity , I did not know. My head was locked in a harness, tightened as if she was readying me for the guillotine. Without a single word , she rolled me into the smallest of worlds I had ever been in.
Her footsteps faded into a deep eerie silence , and then the machine came to life.
****************************************************************************** I was just a normal boy, or so I wanted to think. But being the son of two teachers , never really did make you normal in an academic circle. There were always high expectations, and it only grew with every year that passed. It was funny how people invoked my parents profession , into the genes I carried. Some called me a genius , some said it was because my parents were teachers. Perhaps they were right , but it did not really bother me, as long as I continued being a topper.
All my exams were aced with ease , and I would run my victory lap in arrogance , by advising those stood below me. I was made for glory , or so I felt. Well that was till , my body broke.
******************************************************************************
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik ‘
It felt as though a multitude of workers were beating metal sheet. My mind wandered into territory which was now unrestricted. Perhaps it was for a coffin. I would know for sure in 45 minutes. 45 minutes was all it would take for the procedure, they said. 45 minutes was all that remained to determine , where the rest of my life would be.
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik ‘
****************************************************
Life had never been an uncertainty to me. It was flowchart , which if followed ,resulted in the highest form of success. My preparation to being an engineer, had began when I was 10 years old. My parents made sure of it. I always knew I wanted to be an engineer , but I never actually knew why. I followed the flowchart of life , and my outstanding academics guaranteed me a spot in one of the best universities. My admission guaranteed a huge salary. All I had to do was pass, and for a guy like me , well that was not going to be a problem at all.
The noise was getting annoying. Perhaps it was only my imagination , but I could swear to feeling a pressure field around my head. What could be wrong with me. Was it a tumor , or a hemorrhage or was it nothing! The doctors could not be sure.
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
It sounded like a clock . My mind was wandering with every tick.
**************************************************** She was beautiful , not like the cover of Vogue. She was beautiful like the early morning dew in a farm of roses. I had always known Kaksi, and yet had always remained a stranger. She knew of my existence , from the smiles we shared, but I never remembered a single syllable pass between us. For seven years I knew her , and for seven years she had been my only distraction.
‘Study hard and be an engineer. Then you can go and propose to her. Otherwise what will you parents think. This is not a joke. I understand yaar , Look at me . I have already planned it with Garima. I’ll finish my course , get a high salary , and then who will deny her to me!’
Well that was Arun , my first year roommate. A guy who unlike me had to study a lot to maintain his high grades. Funny how marrying a girl was an inspiration so great.
********************************************************
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
I had never expected this. I mean who plans his own death. It was my brain for God’s sake. It didn’t matter what the result would be, my life would never be the same. I could feel my left arm tingle. It had always been like this. First the fingers on my left hand , would go numb , and then like a spreading venom , it would spread through my legs. My vision would get impaired , and my speech would become incoherent. And then as a finale to a concert , my head would implode, and I would pray for the end to come. And then just when all hope had gone , the image of Arun would pop in my head.
*********************************************************** He was on the table, his body ripped open. Smashed and unrecognizable he lay, barren in front of us. What would Garima say, would she recognize him? Would his own parents recognize him. Ofcourse they would. He was their Arun, their only Arun, our only Arun. He was all set, just year more to go , everyone had agreed, and now this. My phone rang, it was Garima, did she know ?
It rang . It rang again, what was I supposed to say. What miracle could my God conjure?
It rang again , and I picked it. There was no hello , just a moment of silence , in which words found their way. And then she screamed and my composure broke. We cried together.
***********************************************************
More than 45 minutes had passed. The nurse had come in and told me , that they required more investigation. I had searched desperately for any encouragement , but all I received was a cold steely stare.
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
The noise was getting annoying !
Just let me out of here. Tell me what is wrong , tell me that there is an alternative . Or Tell me that I am dying . Tell me that My life is over . Do not make me go through this. Do not make me think, how long I have got. Every moment is just a hope.
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
Prayers leave my body one by one. I have never prayed like this in my whole life. But would the cold metal casing of this machine allow my prayers through.
‘Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
Who would cry when I died?
What would I be remembered for?
Who would remember me a year from today?
Would money have saved me?
Would my academic scores inspire someone ?
Would I just end up a engraved name on a tombstone?
‘’Tick Tick Tick tick Tock Tock TOCK TOCK TOCK Tik Tik ToK Tik’
I closed my eyes in submission.
***********************************************************
2 hours 45 minutes later , the nurse rolled me out of the machine. Her eyes were still cold and steely, but it did not bother me anymore. She was just doing her business, little did she know what it meant for someone to be inside.
She handed me a basket of my clothing. My 300 Dollar watch was there. It still ticked, but it had lost its shine.
I walked out , and open arms reached out to me. There were wide smiles on everyone’s face.
They were all around me , in that small room. The room fit 3 of us quite conveniently. I looked past my parent’s face to my cell phone, in anticipation of enquiring calls. The blank screen stared back at me.
It wasn’t anything serious they say.
‘Nothing serious, my boy !’
The words stung deep. Did it make any difference?
They say nothing serious is wrong , but then why do I feel this flowchart of life , is totally wrong.
It was a day like none so different
The sun was high , in tranquility, locked between shading clouds
A sweet melancholy of Mozart strings , serenaded my feet to a dance with her
A fragrance like her , none felt in tis flower shop , in which I stood
Enchanted in colors and scents so varied
I searched and searched for one so different
To speak the story of heart , I willed
But words failed every single moment
A rose so red , my beating heart’s story,
A dasie so bright , the chirrupping within
A jasmine so fragrant , the smell of her hair
An aster to mark the journey ahead
Or a yellow tulip , a helplessness in her absence
So many be the choices , I have
So many words i have to say
My pocket but a poor man’s treasure
How then be it , that a single flower speak my soul
Beside the window , stood an ugly plant
A cactus so prickly , I feared to touch
But beauty I found , in the words it spoke
An everlasting truth that illusion bypass
A flower she was in my barren life
My thirst she quenched when all was lost
Green and prosperous our love would last
And hope to those , that come lost without hope
She guards the heart from those that pry
Her tentacles raised to strike deep within
Bleed shall they who try to steal
But from her , her precious love
My pocket is but a poor mans treasure
Yet enough to buy this catcus
Ugly it be , to be sold so less
Yet beauty be present in eyes of the beholder
There was a time , when people saw me just as the child , I was. Reckless , naïve, my feet yet to grow a long way in the shoes they had placed for me. Everyone had an opinion of their own. And as a story being recited to a child , I found myself listening keenly to all these opinions. I was smart , some said. Some said , I was merely observant. Many concluded , that I would either end up as an engineer or a doctor. It amazed me how people could just figure out one’s future. I remember once seeing a Tarrot lady on the streets . She had this mysterious look in her eyes, and though it was just Cataract, for a kid it seemed like something mystique. The power to see the future demanded respect. I was scared to go to her. I had braces then, and earlier that day , my dad had got really peeved at seeing me picking the metal wires in search of chocolate bits, that he had threatened to cut short my supply of chocolate! That was one future I was not interested in knowing. But when people spoke of a bright future for me, I found myself gaping in respect
A couple of years later, I was standing six feet tall , beside this kid who barely crossed my knees. He stared up at me with his big eyes, which from my height , I could see contained more white than black. His eyes darted for a second to the tv screen, and it never returned. He was lost in the world of the Jetsons. I had loved this show when I was a kid. Teleporting , robotic butler, it sure was a different world. Airports are pretty boring places, especially if you are travelling alone during Christmas eve. Well I had this kid for company , actually I was hoping for the mom , but then , my luck always worked against me. So here I was left baby sitting this kid , while his mom , scurried to the Duty free.
‘Mister Stranger, What do you do ‘ He asked , looking at my briefcase
‘Well, I’m an engineer’
‘Aw cool , so do you build cars’
‘Well not exactly’
‘Do they fly. Do they zip and can they go up and down , left and right and roll over’
‘Uh no , they don’t. I don’t actually build cars. You see I’m a design engineer .’
‘Oh ‘. And there was this lost look in his face.
‘ A design engineer , designs stuff. You see these hover cars, well someone has to think of them , before it can be made’
‘Oh cool , so have you build these cars? I like flaming red . I thinks its cool , but my mom hates it. Which color do you have.’
‘Uh , I don’t have a car. And I don’t design cars.’
‘But you said , you designed cars. How come you dont have one.’
‘It was just an example! Cars are expensive and I cant afford one’
‘But don’t you get paid’
‘Well I do , but its complicated.’
‘What’s complicated?’
‘Well , you see , I kind of give my suggestions to people , and if they like it they pay me. Its what we in the adult world call free lancing.’
‘So have you designed any cars!’
‘No I haven’t , As I told before, I don’t design cars!’
‘Then what do you design’
‘Pipes’ I whispered in a sheepish voice.
‘Pipes, okhay. But what do you design in pipes. Arent they already build round and long ?’
‘Well , for you they maybe. But pipes are complex things , Its got curves , angles , and a small kid like you may not know it now. But when you grow up , study and become an enginner, well you‘ll know how important pipes are.’
‘My mom says I’m going to be an engineer. She says I’ll make these cars that fly. Vrooommmmm!!.People say I’m smart.’
‘Yeah I’m sure you are.’
And then for a brief moment there was silence. Two souls lost in translation. The kid was probably designing his first flaming red car. Myself on the other hand , was torn between two memories.
T thought of the morning’s conference came to picture. My ideas were genuine , but people were so ignorant. They looked at me as though , I was crazy. But I was sure about my idea. I was born a genius! One in a hundred was a prodigy.
Didn’t my uncle say
‘Son it’s a tough world, but you are going to make it. You know they say there’one in hundred is a genius. I am one , and am sure so are you. But remember the world is tough.’
Hmm .. but he didn’t get anywhere. Rather people thought he was crazy old guy , who just blurted rubbish. I wasn’t going o turn out to him. So what if I’m 35 , I know I’m smart. I’m smarter than everybody. My concepts work and the world was just too see ignorant what the Jetsons had achieved
And just maybe one day , these kids might just learn something from me, and till then , I just got to keep fighting against the world!
When night comes and the cold breeze blows
When the sun sets , and a cloudless night appears
When all is silent , and time still
When my eyes close , and into deep slumber I fall
Will you be there beside me ,
to hold my hand , lest I feel scared
When heat fades , and stillness comes
When the whisper from lips turns into silence
When my lips be locked in a eternal bliss
When only sunny days shall exist
Will you be there beside me
to be my eyes , lest I be lost
When broken wounds heal
When tears become but a stranger to me
When still I stand , as time blows by
When in stone, my name be engraved
Will you be there beside me
To carry my name , lest in time it be lost
Perhaps alone I may be, tis day
In a land, where only light be there
Cry not shall I , for only happiness be here
And yet I feel so empty , for down there I see you all
Our time will come , but not so soon I pray
For many more stories I yearn to hear from you
Good bye for now , my dear ones
Fear not , for I shall always be the hand that holds you close
One of my earliest memories of school , has to be the on line, which constantly found its way into any 2nd grade teachers arsenal. ‘Finger on your lips’, was merely a polite way of saying , what we now fondly refer to as ‘Shut up!’. However , that said , the vessel still squeaks until the lid force itself on . In school it was the mere threat of a complaint to father and mother superior. For a grown up , the threat is far more disturbing.Perhaps even as far as a whisper of a scar , that bids all those money laundering ,proposals goodbye. None the less , we as humans have always exercised our right to the freedom of speech , only falling short to dire situations , as mentioned earlier.
It was a normal day . And as my normal days usually goes , there’s a bus ride , followed by a train , and yet another bus ride. Public transports , truly in its definition, serve the word public. People drool over each other , holler tunes as though they it were their bathrooms and then there’s the usual swarm of kids , who think speaking about how their discovery of someone’s wedgies , would one day make it the find of the century. And the day , would have been as normal as it normally was , if it were not for that couple , who occupied the front row of bus 362.
It is not often, that you notice people. There’s actually nothing special , the same sleeping faces , or the same , ‘Girl , I’m in love with you till the next arrive ‘expressions. But this couple caught my attention. There was something simple , and so simple about them that intrigued me. Through out the ride , I saw the lady looking out the window , staring at the passing bushes, and you could actually see the twinkle in her eye, as she turned to her elderly husband. They must have been in their late 50’s , if you considered their wrinkles and the receeding hairline. I was sitting two rows behind them , obstructed by a rather obese lady , whose sense of fashion and tube tops , stretched far beyond the definition of a sexy cleavage and , ‘oh that’s totally gross!’. I could only see the glitter in her eyes when she turned, and it struck me odd , for she was just looking at bushes! I couldn’t see the husband, but I could witness her lips curl into , what has to be described as , perhaps the most pleasant smile one would find on such a ‘public ‘transport.
Two stops later , I managed to get a seat behind the couple , and ahead of the heaving overly exposed obese lady. The old in front of me , continued to stare into the bushes. She once again turned to her husband , and her lips moved. She smiled again. My iPod was blaring a tune , and my noise cancellation ear buds , gave me what was the closest definition of silence, I could ever think of. Her smile , did raise a lot of curiosity. I slipped off my ear buds , hoping to catch , what the lady found so fascinating in these bushes. It was quite hard to concentrate , with all the ruckus , yet I strived hard to maintain my patience. After a while , of what seemed like ages to me, she turned towards her husband , and her lips transformed into what , I would have expected to be the formation of a syllable. No words came , not a single syllable. And then she smiled again . It drove me nuts. What was so interesting!
She turned again , and this time I saw it . Her lips curled , but her hands moved. Being the presence of mute person , was not a first time experience. What amazed me , however , was the response her husband gave. His hands only moved , his eyes fixed only on her. Nothing disturbed them , nothing broke their stride. Their hands spoke a conversation of a silent bush , which even with words , I could never find interesting.
I kept a finger on my lips, and thought to myself. When was the last time , I had actually known pure silence. When was the last time , I listened to the syllables in my own head. I had always had a voice , a voice to bleat , a voice to reach out. But what if one day, that voice bid me good bye, would the silence of the world , drive me mad, or transform me , into what life calls the beauty of miracles.
