“Speech is silver; silence, golden”; I said, as she nodded in agreement. Silence thereafter, and thus began the spate of pauses; awkward at times, at times intriguing. The beauty of it all though was unparalleled, something mystique about it, her silence akin to her was enigmatic. She could freeze and set ablaze a thousand thoughts directed at her with her silence, and then she would speak; just a word or two; as if breaking a spell that she’d not chosen deliberately to cast upon you.
She spoke less, really less; as I would chatter away all the time, she was of the observant nature; for she came across as someone who was all within herself. The look on her face seldom gave away as to what turbulence brew inside, an onerous task it was for her: to manage ten different thoughts at a time, but she held the reins well. And; well that was she, at her best, her words never played second fiddle to her thoughts, for they would be in sync all the time; she managed and tamed the chaos well; a high mind turning quotient all of it was.
She would smile, and she would smile often; perhaps her way of negotiating the silence that had taken over. It was tragically beautiful though, thought- afterthought or no thought at all, she would just smile thus veiling the entropy of the mess that was all-devouring. The facial muscles had gotten used to the chaos perhaps, for the stimulus remained unchanged. She would break out into laughter; but that wasn’t too very often, at something really foolish; a tactic that would work; no pretensions and just no effort at all. She managed the business of going about and acting normal quite well, the smile that lit up the skyline of her face prevented one from getting a feeler of the storm that raged on the inside.
Her temperament too was one of a kind, hot and cold and numb; it varied in varying proportions. She would fly high this moment and come crashing down; all by herself; the very next instant. She would be poetic and emotional; and blunt and rational; all at a time. A mixed bag she was, juggled her emotions as her thoughts would keep juggling in her mind; the face mediating the crisis in between all that she withheld. And, she wouldn’t give away, not the least bit; stubborn she was, to herself; merciless at times; but all to herself, because she just couldn’t give it away; all for herself. She was right though, there remained no room for negligence. The soul had tuned itself to the ways of the world, the world she held within, all by herself again.
And, she would ask me to write; would give me reasons too, reasons just being reasons, the subject often elusive; as elusive as her thoughts that would rush into my mind’s embankment. Hard to contain she was, her thoughts and her soul, perhaps putting them down in my attempt to cage a part of her will somehow yield in capturing some part of the elusive SHE !! For now, I am set; the flame not flickering; in her light, I’ll bask, and in her light, I’ll write. And, it is beautiful, and now, I know it, for I know she was beautiful.
P.S: And, Yeats meant her when he wrote:
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And, loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And, loved the sorrows of your changing face;
abhishek purkayastha 