For the past few days, I have been yearning to listen to one sound. The sound of silence. It was easy to hear her in India. But here, there is so much happening all around that her gentle murmur is lost even as it lands on my ears. Here, everything seems to take on a life of its own - the buildings, the buses and the roads. They are all buzzing with life. A life of their own with vents, thermostats and air conditioners that are constantly humming to their own beat.
I sometimes yearn for the stillness that one could feel in the dead of the night when one could hear one's own heart beat. The stillness that would be momentarily pierced by the watchman's nightly call but would still seal itself automatically to generate a void. A void, where one could talk to no one but oneself. When the silence that enveloped you was so delicate and precious, that you treated it like a glass veil that shielded you from the outside. Here I rarely feel that stillness because there always something moving. One either hears the whispers and grunts of the buildings, emanating from the vents or one hears the distant rumble of the cars. There is never a moment's respite from this activity all around - never a break, never a lull. I yearn for that stillness. For that quiet. For that thin glass veil that would encase me like water in a womb.
And so I look forward to power cuts, to mechanical repairs. To breakdowns i would normally resent but which now help me find that elusive quiet for a few moments.
And then, I rush to the ocean. Cold and furious, enveloped by gray skies, the waters of the pacific seem to drown all other sounds in by their constant growls. And in their chaos, I find stillness. A stillness that I used to find with my late night and early morning strolls in the IISc campus. A stillness that calms me, instead of frightening me. A stillness that talks to me through me.
I long for silence ever so often but then she doesn't seem to talk much up here.
I sometimes yearn for the stillness that one could feel in the dead of the night when one could hear one's own heart beat. The stillness that would be momentarily pierced by the watchman's nightly call but would still seal itself automatically to generate a void. A void, where one could talk to no one but oneself. When the silence that enveloped you was so delicate and precious, that you treated it like a glass veil that shielded you from the outside. Here I rarely feel that stillness because there always something moving. One either hears the whispers and grunts of the buildings, emanating from the vents or one hears the distant rumble of the cars. There is never a moment's respite from this activity all around - never a break, never a lull. I yearn for that stillness. For that quiet. For that thin glass veil that would encase me like water in a womb.
And so I look forward to power cuts, to mechanical repairs. To breakdowns i would normally resent but which now help me find that elusive quiet for a few moments.
And then, I rush to the ocean. Cold and furious, enveloped by gray skies, the waters of the pacific seem to drown all other sounds in by their constant growls. And in their chaos, I find stillness. A stillness that I used to find with my late night and early morning strolls in the IISc campus. A stillness that calms me, instead of frightening me. A stillness that talks to me through me.
I long for silence ever so often but then she doesn't seem to talk much up here.
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