The silent child.

The child lies drenched in the shadows of a dream gone sour. Yet he is sleeping in a bed of silence. A recalcitrant flux he keeps experiencing that does not still justify in any entirety his claim to speech. For him speech is a violation of silence , or maybe .....

The game begins......

The child floats in a river of his delusion and sometimes , when he finds he can’t suppress the overbearing repression seething within him , he begins to write his poignant tale on the waters of the river. He knows the apparent futility of drawing lines on water,  yet he is acts like a self-indulgent bumptious monster..... 

The child is sinking into the quicksand of memory and yet he refuses to speak .....

He can’t seem to realize that his silence caused his downfall , and so , he persists with the sophism persisting in his head.  He can’t understand why he had to be so explicit to keep from losing. But then maybe he prefers to remain silent and lose .... Losing in itself , is quite a effacing feeling , but to marry sadness , on account of one’s self-abnegating silence imposes an almost a inescapable anathema .....

The games’ hotting up.....

Somewhere along the way , the child lost a love thats still needling its way through the mushy carverns of Father Time. At sometime he climbed a river , that still flows to this day. The child regales himself to his pain strewn destiny just as the losing warring faction does in a battle. Maybe thats all that remains , and eons of Silence , maybe .....

He writes on the water

“   What is beauty , but an infinite conundrum ,
    What is love , but an infinite hate ,
    What are you , ( Ha ! Ha ! ) ,
           but a figment of my vague and sophistic imagination . “          

The child is desolate , sad and lost.  He carves out a listless and bland niche for essaying out his own existence. He drags his feet with a dream , that would never come to be. He does not lose out in the face of the un-ending trauma , though he is surely overburdened by it. He has become weak , yet he is not vulnerable enough to be defeated , and maybe that’s what keeps him going. As the games’ progress..... , it comes to light , the child , as of now is not silent as an imposition , or as a matter of choice , but he has infact lost his ability to speak. He has been literally struck dumb by the screams from his specious dreams......

 He takes some recalcitrant memories to his grave ,
   Buries them , and sprinkles the holy dust on them ,
 Hears from the strains of a dream gone sour ,
   ‘ Ashes to ashes , dust to dust ,
    What once was , is no longer ‘ ,
Stifles a ominous derision , about to emanate from his ego ,
And instead , douses himself in the anguish he lies grappling with ,
    The end arrives , and yet ,
   He keeps searching for a peg in this wilderness spawned by his coition with a dream.

As the games come to an end , we start again.....

Before his end , he does break his silence , he calls out ‘Someone’s’ name .... , and the timbre’s of this utterance keep resonating like an echo in the ensuing epochs of Quietus ....

Endgame .

 Infinite sadness and melancholy .....

May 1996 - Amitabh Iyer