Silence and Introspection Go Together

I'm here in Delhi, staying at hubby dear’s friend’s office-cum-part time home where I’d hoped for nights of peace and quiet, far away from the howdy/rowdy of Soi 11. But, from almost the first night itself, my expectations were dashed to smithereens by this one particular street mongrel. It seemed to have a lot to say, but I guess it had been said once too often because none from its stray pack responded; not even with a yelp or a half-bark. Thereafter, I tried all I could, throughout my three-night stay, I couldn’t shut my mind or my ears from the nonstop barking from that mutt. It was infuriating, moreso, alongside the tail-end of every bow, bow, wow, bow-wow stanza, it would do a strange, dragged-out, guttural braying. Into the second night, I almost wished it dead, but then again, credit is due to the pooch for its obstinate doggedness; it never tired and never gave up, delivering its ‘bashan’ in doggie lingo.

In more ways than one, the canine reminded me of that one person, or persons, who’ll inevitably become the ear-sore at every party and gathering. Whether you ask them or not, they, in their booming, louder by a few decibels voice, will muffle your right to speak or to think differently from their authoritarian, PhD take on any and every subject. Agreed that it’s not easy to avoid such a ‘person’ or ‘persons’, especially if you are in the same community, but it’s not entirely impossible either. One can try to minimise socialising in the same groups or slowly learn to white out their incessant, boastful, know-it-all drone.

But then, there’s this one more voice: much more persistent and tenacious than that canine. That voice not only refuses to shut up, it also refuses to let up, not even for a split-second; no matter how much you try to shun it or block it out, it’s determined not to leave you alone. This voice isn’t loud, but it’s very insistent, very persistent, very repetitive, and impossible to disregard or be indifferent to. It’s domineering and forceful and keeps one subjugated and doubtful and second-guessing everything and everybody, and most of all about one’s own abilities and, most importantly, one’s own self-worth. It’ll never, ever whisper words of encouragement or give a well-deserved pat on one’s back. It’s a voice we’ve been listening to ever since we were born; it’s the voice that we’ve always trusted and obeyed, naively believing it to be the voice of our conscience. But that’s not so, this ‘VOICE’ is a thug, it’s the very same voice that landed our human race where we are today.

It befriended our primary mother, Eve, and then, with shrewd and vile cunning, tricked her into taking a bite of that forbidden fruit; mankind’s original sin, for which we are still paying the price. That ‘VOICE’ subtly drowned out the ‘other sound’; the real voice of our conscience. This is the ‘still, small voice’ that’s been with us, inside of us, and has always been there to dissuade us from the path of wrong. It’s the real voice of reason; guiding us to stay true to our human nature; to love our neighbours as much as we should love ourselves; to readily offer a helping hand to anyone in need, without thinking of reciprocal benefits, and to view others’ transgressions as slip-ups, ones that we ourselves could make with equal ease. This gentle, loving voice nudges us to see miracles in the simple things of life we take for granted: the sun rising and setting, the moon going through its phases, a new life being born, and an old person being released from their suffering through death. It urges us, gently, and lovingly, to be happy and content in whoever and whatever and however we are. If only we could lean our ears more towards that ‘still, small voice’, which consistently echoes the message of love and acceptance; we’d each become as joyful as we were created to be!