Musings/Opinionated Articles

Wordless Conversations are the Best Conversations

Words might need a conversation but a conversation doesn’t need words; it needs 2 people who want to interact.

Conversations are an essential part of our lives. We can’t really live without them. Even if you are a loner, you have conversations with yourself every time you stop yourself from talking to someone; or, when you look in the mirror; or, during a shower. We just can’t resist them. Especially, when we are told to hold them. And, we learn how to have them in different situations viz. formal, informal, while accosting a girl, while delivering an elevator pitch and so on.

It’s all about the right word, they say.
It’s all about the right pause, they say.

And they are correct. It’s all about eloquence and how you present your information. And, accordingly, we equip our minds with appropriate syntaxes. But, sometimes, when these conversations get void of words, it results in absolute magic.

Such muted or wordless conversations strip us of all the eloquence or the layers of syntaxes, we have draped ourselves in. The conversation becomes ingenuous. It becomes what it’s meant to be, a pure exchange of information with energy as its rhetoric. Muted conversations seek our undivided attention, which make them holistic and captivating. We focus on other person’s gestures: our eyes swing from her eyebrows to her hands to perceive the eloquence of the information shared; our ears don’t fail to capture the sounds of her breath to measure the intensity of the feeling attached, and our heart starts beating heavier resulting in that AHA moment or Goosebumps sometimes. Why? Because it seized and lived the moment completely. Because it found a genuine moment in our whole day of continual pretence.

I had such a conversation today. I usually don’t talk to our neighbours or some familiar faces which I have seen while growing up –only the usual ‘Namastey’ after an eye contact. Except for one person. This uncle lives just a few homes away from me, and I have hardly talked to him 5 times since 2008. However, I remember all those 5 times. He cannot hear but understands everything. He cannot talk but expresses everything better than I even could sometimes. I have never seen him slouching towards his way home. And I have never felt even a tinge of sadness in him while conversing. Every time when our path crosses, we take a break and converse for a minute or so. I said break because I won’t be able to converse properly if I don’t take a break from all the other things in mind, at that point. He hugs me and asks me about my well-being. When I had lost weight, a few years back, he applauded; and today, he filled his mouth with air and mimicked a fat person to ask why I had gained some of it again. And even after we took each other’s leave, my smile urged me to stay.

PS: As a writer, I believe that words are everything. But, somehow, today, while having the conversation I again realized that it’s the feelings behind words that give them the actual meaning.


He Was Not ‘Normal’

He sits on the front seat; he disliked studies but dreaded how the others treat.
He holds his lunch near; sometimes out of embarrassment, sometimes out of fear.
He stammers till the last sentence; the paragraph ends, not the scorning nuisance.
He weeps after he reaches home; he suffered from the ‘Why everyone hates me’ syndrome.

Was it his crime that during school, he needs the washroom more than 3 times?
Was it his fault that during reading, everybody flows but he takes halts?
Was it his obesity which he whispers it is, every time he stays with his Granny?
Was it his incapability to live in this world which prefers pretentiousness to humility?

On parents’ suggestion, he showered love but failed to receive even compassion.
On his own perception, he became a snitcher but even that failed to draw the desired conclusion.
On his teachers’ threat, their laughing suppressed but he couldn’t rejoice.
On his heart’s voice, he started paying attention to his passion which proved to be a blessing in disguise.

Some years later, the old bullies were bullied by competition and peer pressure.
They were laughed at, scorned at; on their bent backs, Karma sat.
And then they understood, how he had felt during his childhood.
A thousand of children fall prey to bullyism because they defy our definition of Normal; like him.
And only unconditional love and pursuit of their passion can save them like it saved him.
But some aren’t fortunate enough, their breaths take an endless halt;
And yes, it’s Normal’s fault; it’s Pretentiousness’ fault; it’s our fault.

PS. – If you are like him with a different set of idiosyncrasies, stay strong stay unique, you are strong, they are weak.
If you are one of them, show some compassion guys.