NOT MUCH TO SPEAK WHEN SILENCE IS A BLESSING...

I admire people who can create magic with words – yes, the same words that are available to you and me, to all. Call it ‘Creative-writing skill’, ‘Gift of imagination’, ‘Gift of story-telling’, ‘Word play’, ‘Word recipe’, Spinning-a-yarn’… call it by whatever name you want; but, like any creative person around us – a poet, a song writer, a playwright,  a dance choreographer, a lyricist, a chef, a mathematician, a scientist, a stand-up comedian, a photographer, a film-maker, an ad-maker or a magician - this person, too, can create magic with his words.  Yes, give him the same bowl of words, and he can be the alchemist!

And, I love that…

I was fortunate to meet one such person, today, in one of the reputed Mumbai colleges, where I had gone to conduct a session for senior teachers. Her name was Mrs. Shubha Mukherjee and she taught English in this college.

Mrs. Mukherjee is a very affectionate and graceful lady. During the course of our discussion, I learnt that she had authored two books – one relating to academics and the other, a fiction. “Ma’am, I would love to have a copy of the fiction,” I said. The book - ‘Delicate Desire’ - was placed in my hand in less than a minute!

I am yet to read the whole book. But, I am always fascinated by the way the story unfolds…

The city stands still.

Eyes don’t strain yourselves; not a single soul in any corner.

Tired of barking through the night, even the street dogs have deserted the lanes in search of some rest. The cock suddenly gets up from slumber, realizes it’s too early, goes off for another nap. And the crow clings to its young ones waiting for the cock’s signal.

The trees stand solemn engulfed in darkness as if they have thousands of mysteries to unfold with the advent of the dawn. The abandoned streets lie blank unable to bear the trauma and the shame. The enormous Iron Gate that had always spread out its hands with a warm welcome even to strangers has turned adamant and rough to all. Looking out over the garden, the huge building stands still – expressionless, submissive, shattered.

A soft screech followed by silence……… and then a soft tread.

The lone figure stands still in front of the locked gate…

Truly, writing is a talent, a gift… How a writer creates stories out of thin air – using the same words that are available before all of us – yes, this phenomenon always fascinates me. It is akin to all other creative forms – architecture, film-making, ad-making, creation of dance, songs and drama, food, inventions and, even, magic… Creativity has no bounds – it is endless, timeless and, it’s forever fresh…

Mrs. Shubha has left these lines at the end of her story…

Not much to speak

when silence is a blessing…

not much to enhance

when love is at stake…

Does it leave me lost in my thoughts?

I will be reading the book tonight.

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Shubha Mukherjee