Silence

parent-questions

As the sun shines it’s rays on his house
and morning coffee is brewing slowly,
he came upto his father,
looking at his face with all his focus,
ears begging to hear the response
and he asked,
“Papa, your silence
speaks of a story.”
He glances over and replies calmly,
“I am the garden, my boy.
Filled with variety of flowers,
grown by light and rain;
stomped by shoes of pain.
My silence speaks of how
my words have been misunderstood multitude of times;
let others mute my voice;
so now I only speak when needed because
the more I learn, the less I speak.”

Hello everyone, I hope everybody is doing well. Just back from a month long vacation so the blog will be alive now and will try to post as frequently as I can. This post was done in a collaboration with another blogging friend Nimmi. It really shows how a simple conversation can turn into a meaningful talk, which I am sure we all have experienced at some point in our life.

Quote a Day #2

A lovely blogger friend name Nimmi has nominated me for a three days quote challenge and I am glad to accept it because she knows I love writing quotes. She is a wonderful blogger whose posts are dripping with raw emotions that each and every reader can relate to at some level. In addition, she has a beautiful personality and I am fortunate to meet her on this platform. Do check out her blog if you have not done so already and it will definitely be worth your time.

The Rules
• Post a favourite quote of yours for 3 consecutive days, obviously  a different quote each day from any book, any author of your choice. It could also be your own quote.
• Nominate 3 bloggers with each post to challenge them.
• Thank the person who nominated you.
Continue reading

The Old Woman

 

The Old Woman sat on her chair outside her house.
She liked to drink tea and sew sweaters although she lived alone.
Since the time her husband passed away, she repeated this activity
Every Day.

She watched the same kids
Every Day,
Running all over the street after a ball.
She watched the same person
Every Day,
Selling vegetables on a small cart and people bargaining over 10 rupees.
Everyone found themselves confused by her ritualistic behaviour.

“She just sits there and does not talk to anyone”,
Said the neighbours.

“She keeps sewing clothes but there is nobody to wear it in her house”,
Said the relatives.

“She must be crazy”,
Thought the kids playing.

The Old Woman had not spoken
Since her husband passed away a year ago.
She was satisfied to have just the secret talks with her husband
While she was immersed in her thoughts.

All she wanted to do was to sew her feelings,
Into colourful sweaters and keep it with her till she is breathing.
But, it seemed as though everyone had made up their minds about her
Without a second thought.

One day, nobody saw her drinking tea or sewing sweaters and saw the empty chair swinging back and forth.
This went on for couple days.

The same kids playing in the evening started wondering and were confused.
Later, everyone understood that The Old Woman was not coming back because even the house was empty now.

It was the moment of realization that
Her silence spoke thousand words Every Day
Because they missed The Old Woman through her sweaters and the tea.