The Contemplations of Silence

It could not have been the gloomiest of days, but its silence was restricting the flow. There were unsettled sentiments waiting to be heard. That was not to be! The figures shifted according to some secret plan and the positions were momentarily filled with trepidation. As if everyone was communicating through that silence. A new way to express deep resentment and unfulfilled desires through a strange medium of silence. It had evolved with the time that was inimical and inherited but could not have been rejected in any way. Even if the reluctant hands did not want to hold that legacy, fate intervened and compelled them to accept the offer.

When the reality is like a gossamer pattern, there would be caught in there some strange truth. Light enough to balance in that complicated pattern, but also quite resilient to endure the tantrums and relentless oppression of time. Time behaves rouge, and all the characters surrender their plans to it. Life’s plot wounds itself in a tight embrace and it becomes difficult to extricate the other reality, the inherent reality, that was supposed to reign the course of existence. As if all the houses were identified by their unique smell and painted in different colours to be more noticeable to that invisible eye. It was the eye of that mysterious consciousness which seems to have cast a spell on the collective thinking.

The slanting light created the curious shadows and their movement created a mysterious sound; the echo of which must have been resonating deep in the earth. Who could have been listening to the shadows? A world shadowed from the mass consciousness does not reveal their plans. Sometimes, the anomalies in time expose their face, albeit for a brief moment. It may be the mischievous intent of the custodians of that other world, who likes to meddle with reality.

There is definitely a tremble in individual voices while describing the reality and also while wishing for the one that will be suitable for existence. Curious discussion in smaller groups counters each other, as there is a lot of commotion instead of serious communication. Inherent feelings feel lost in the agitated environment.

It is not at the same time the doors open to face the world, but somehow gets entangled to a common fate that presides over the consciousness. The cunning routes misguide the marching fellows towards the narrow scope. They are pushed towards it, they float around, and sometimes lose their way, but the wily paths surely know how to confuse the journeyers.

Everything feels so scattered and discomforting if one has the chance to look at the pace of events that unfolds every day. The sky feels like the bent ceiling that is putting a lot of pressure on the freedom of thoughts. Nature feels carved out of an illusion and the roots travel further down after spying on the daily commotion. Their transformation down there is like the archetypal serpent who is listening to the desires. All the objects that are constructed and placed at awkward angles to curb the spaces and the comfortless existence are palpable. The ennui of this world is reflected in the eyes; studying the myriad countenance is a different kind of learning. After all, so many feelings have been vaulted under the scrutiny of the serpent’s eye.

The livid silence stifles the voices of freedom

Faces stare at the pallid images but do not utter any words

Being moved from one position to another

There is no fair play, no permission, but fate plays its game

Standing there to dream of a seraphic face

But the serpent pulls down the desires to a secret den

Eyes that keep guard over the dreams

Move like the pieces of puzzles but controlled by unknown hands

The fabric that won’t carry the colours of radiance

Flaming orb of the morning and crescent symbol of faraway light

Days echo dutifully the feelings that nature holds

On dim remembrance, the tired mind falls into that deep gorge

Travellers throng the cunning paths in resentment

There is no scope to worry or lament but to carry on

One day these daily rituals would be forgotten and some divine grace would gather the true reality and time erase them all. The temporary arrangements and mysterious manipulations would be forgotten and freedom of movement earned. Natural healing over the prescribed medication will rejuvenate the being. Buried worries and the serpent will be defeated from the unseen world. The objects will realign according to simple dreams. No rushed decisions and eyes won’t reflect the comfortless existence. Silence will gain freedom and never stifle the voices again!

~Amitav

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