How much time do you spend in silence? I have always embraced silence more than loquacity or sound. Ironic? Yes, may be in a lot of ways because my love for the performing arts makes sure I am surrounded by creative sounds. But I prefer calling it creative energy instead. My mother was a music and classical dance connoisseur and performer. Naturally, the house was always buzzing with sounds of the sitar and the tabla, not to mention the dance classes and the continual tinkle of ghungroos. My own inclination towards theatre and dance ensured the house was always resonating. And yet, I discovered my silences in these sounds.
When life happened and new spectacles unfolded themselves, I let go this paradox. Life embroils you in different ways. The humdrum is so overpowering that the only solace is in quietude. The passive state truly. Or, so you think. With writing taking over the part played by dramatics or dance previously, I indulged in the sound of words. What kind of sound do words make? I tried looking for an onomatopoeia for it. Well, I didn’t find one. So, I believed that words make this silent kind of noise. The kind that reverberates in the insides. Enough to keep you on edge.
With the internet and social media taking over our lives, I am inundated by the noise of words around me. Sometimes, when I read an ongoing debate/discussion on social media profiles I find bellowing, wailing words vying for attention. Oh, the noise they make.
Today when a friend quoted Rumi and wished for creative silences for artistic souls, I was left contemplating about creativity in silence and the silence in creativity and whether any of it actually exists. As I type this, I can hear my daughter practicing the aamad in the adjoining room and the tinkle of her ghungroos playing the background score for this piece of writing. I’m wondering if that is the silence I still crave for?
What kind of silence draws you inwards or what kind of silence unleashes your creative energy? The silent night or the honking cars? For we each have our own silences, don’t we?
I just finished reading Pebbles on Paper by Swati Khatri. A deep thinker has her own reflections about life. Swati’s collection of poetry and prose, is her own derivation of life. A lot like most of us. She talks about the past asking us how relevant it is; believes that life is not fair, not always of course but also that it is how it is and we might as well take it at face value rather than be unhappy about it; she also believes in dancing even when there is no music and doesn’t shy from talking about the emptiness of life. Parts of the book reminded me of the Chicken Soup series for there is something ‘On’ Winning, ‘On’ Participating, ‘On’ Listening. No anecdotes there, but plenty of similar musings. All in all, a quick read and feels very familiar.
You can follow Swati Khatri on www.swatikhatri.com
Or on Twitter at @swatikhatri_
The book is available on https://www.amazon.in/dp/1649198264/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_apa_i_AbbhFbXV8GT0H