Silence and Noise

How do you put a feeling into words? A sense of what should be? Imagine a silent valley. A house, a veranda. You recline on a comfortable chair. Dusk. Silence. The suspension of reality and that in between world where memories, ones you never even knew you had, stroll in to accompany you for the evening.

Memories, are we not made up of them? Do we not make more memories every day? They are more than pictures or videos. They capture that part of life that was ordinary, mundane. They transport you back to those sights, sounds, smells of long ago, or yesterday, or an hour ago, to everything you felt and did not feel.

Your father reading the newspaper, his glasses at the tip of his nose; your mother waking you up. A dear friend’s laughter. The face of a stranger who held your gaze for a second longer than necessary. The sound of trains. That BEST bus bell. Conversations. Your reflection in the mirror. Laughter. Thunder and rain. The hypnotising wave of the wiper on the windshield of the car, tiny rivulets running down windows.

Silent summer afternoons. So silent that the birds huddle in trees that are still, no wind to bring relief. Evenings. The television plays, and the strains of an old hindi song tiptoes out from the kitchen, bringing memories of its own.

Diwali. The crack of fireworks, the twinkle of fairy lights on every window you see. Silent lamps standing guard at every doorstep. The day after Holi, slightly pink people on the streets. Ganesh Utsav, ten days of bells, drums, incense and chanting.

Silence and noise. They seem to mark out moments more than anything else sometimes.