The Excess of Silence

Descartes said- ‘I think therefore I am’. I wonder to how many people he could truly explain this. I wonder how many people have truly understood what he said. ‘Saying’, grown to ‘talking’ is a bit of a problem. Thinking is fine; it has a limited domain. But talking is difficult. Talking requires an effort of construction- and that too an appropriate construction. We’re all builders; we try to build our lives. One block after another, piece by piece- we try to make our places. But building sentences needs deliberation. I can think, I can think in my sub-conscious. But when it comes to engaging basic faculties of another human being, I am at a loss. I lose myself to the idea that I don’t have the capacity. It’s like traversing the unknown grounds with invisible pitfalls. One doesn’t really want to fall in the holes so one resorts to reconnaissance. It’s as if I project myself elsewhere- like radar to know what rocks I might encounter. I am always pulsating to find, to search but with equal derision for myself, my being.  The derision foretells the story of rejection- the rejection of my being from an unchartered context.

Let me tell you the story of the time when all this started. It was a time of great impacts and great distinctions. The theory of ‘single child’ is appropriate; it causes great harm to be alone- for it leads to distorted speech, dehumanized bedrooms and play areas full of imaginary friends. Now the great thing about the imaginary friends is that they know you- so you don’t have to explain anything to them. It is through one’s soul unknown to oneself that a child alone fabricates his universe. The communication is in whispers, in countless lost moments of togetherness. One may talk- and the other may listen. Here, in the bedroom of the single child- one may talk and everybody may listen. Everybody is present by their absence. The child has the sun to talk to in the day and the moon to talk to in the night. Certain wind may carry his words elsewhere- but hardly to any place where they are not misconstrued. The friendly chatter is too much clamour and too much clamour is excess of silence and silence is the infinity. Like Simon and Garfunkel said-

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never share

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

So yes, no one dares disturb the sound of silence. Silence and the being exist in singularity. Vaguely do I remember the song of other voices but hardly have I forgotten my own melodies. Vaguely do I recall touching hands all the time but never do I forget my own complicated being. It’s what I call the internalized form- and what they think is a melodrama. It’s what they call confusing and what I call ambiguous.  I don’t think I exist in the binary logic of nature – culture. Neither have I had a stand of a Unitarian rejecting the trinity. I look forward to form a perception; I close my eyes for a moment or so. That is where I encounter the countless moments of solitude.  The reconnaissance is only for the well being of my faculties. Reconnaissance is to know that something beyond me exists. And here fore, I begin my construction of sentences to tell you the relatively true story of silence in excess.