The Silent ones

The constant whining of society intrudes upon our life and ways—silence is looked upon as a heavy word, taxing and draining those living in it. Contrary to such repining ways of human history, silence, in itself is a blessing for man today.

Away from the constant murmur of spoken lies, silence is the light of contentment for silence of speech brings forth the music of thoughts and deliberation, which lacks us an excuse for recklessness.

 

To know that the crux of society lies in the lap of the abusive connections amongst its members and yet, to have the luxury to observe it from a different angle, plane, heck a planet, is my good fortune indeed.

I consider myself, in that sense, to be immensely lucky—not to have met him, but to be part of a relationship so distant from the wailing pleas our colleagues claim theirs to be.

Contrary to all clickbait articles which circulate the social media, constant speech is far from a pre-requisite to what they call a ‘healthy relationship’.

For we have days, weeks even, where I do not remember us sharing words—we function instead, in perfect harmony, listening in on the other’s cues in daily life. In our lives, a good day does not come about upon wishing it and kissing good bye, for on many days, we simply leave home, unspeaking, yet not without the knowledge that each is on the lookout for the other.

Contrary to pop culture, we are not ‘one’, making each other ‘whole’ or ‘complete’. Instead, we take on a more advanced approach towards our lives pertaining to the happenings of today. We are, to some achievable extent, more of two separate entities, going about our separate lives that we have the great pleasure of sharing with one another. We are thus, separate but more a part of something bigger—a system of and for excellence, which yearns more thought, more quiet than the noise of spoken communication.

If anything, then, both he and I can confess the pride we feel about ourselves to have found and honed our mutual consent and want for more silence than not—to us now, the scratching of pen on paper as we write, or the soft tapping of our fingers on the keyboard sound more comforting than any yodel either of us could have come out with.

Even now, in the absence of much speech, we know the essence of our voice, which doesn’t muddy the pool of softer, more cherished moments of random smiles and playful winks.