She thought; who was he? Why he was here? Why it took so many years? Why she accepted? It was not meant for, then why, she chose the purpose; when there was no purpose. Was that so bad? Why she let that happened? Answers are not coming and questions mocking her. Memories making inroads, words are crawling back from the buried times and time in its fury knew nothing that somewhere, sometime, somebody has weaved those words, to create a world, for the one, who was traveling noiselessly. From the far corner of her time, she picks up noise and surprisingly it turns into whispers and she cries.
She is thinking that when the life abandons and mutinous silence muffles the noise and the matter of existence turns to nothing…It becomes irrelevant and that’s what transpired with her. On trampling dreams, when she accepted the traumas, then she connived with her own pains, to be brutalized in silence. Many a time she resisted, she bargained, she denied, she ignored but ultimately accepted the terms and created a void; for silence to muffle the noise.
She remembers the day, when the noise knocked her door first time, after so many years. She got restless. Silence cautioned her, of the consequences. She refused and opened the door, for noise to silently come in, to occupy the space; after long time, she smiled.
And today that noise has gone and she looks into the newspaper and finds him in the obituary column…He is there, silently lying beneath the words. The words, which he created, to make noise, are suddenly so silent…From beneath the words, he whispers “can you hear me.”