Thursday, November 22, 2012

The Way Back

I covet solitude, like a lover. And am loyal to it. To the silence that nestles deep inside, quivering like a lone dew drop, perfect in its effulgence.

However, sometimes,something happens that disrupts the silence inside, and it shifts its place and spreads outside, on the walls, in the corners, on the bed, into the empty rooms, dancing like witches on dope. What was tranquil within turns into an incessant chatter, raking the brain like the impersonal fingers of a grave digger. And, one by one it begins to exhume the long dead, buried bodies. The bodies of myths, truths, realities, lies, betrayals, mistakes, regrets. Ghosts from the years past, unnamed fears, anxieties  And the need to get away from the silence outside and noise within begins to take root at that very spot, which was visceral in it's incorruptible entirety-not so long ago .

When something like this happens, I just step out. To be at the nosiest place, like some bazaar or a crowded theater- seeking the comfort of strangers.
I absorb the outside noises, the chatters, the screechy voices, the squeals of other's delights, their simple innocent pleasures and silly exclamations.
I stand and watch. Stare. Smile. That silly, childish smile of those not given to much pondering or reflecting. And slowly, gradually, I try to find a way, to come back to that void, that rich, full and vivid space within.
To renew my springs. 

© Nazia Mallick


Last night you wrote your sonnets in  Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and  I  ...