A Thousand Unspoken Words.....
The stench was unbearable, but she was the only one on the beach who could feel it. She sat there on the bench with a carcass of a cherished relationship. She had been sitting there for hours while the carcass decayed. The sun could not bear it anymore and took shelter in the sea. The sand beneath her feet shifted to get away from the stench. He had left long back after a thousand unspoken words had been exchanged……
It had all started six years ago on this very bench with an exchange of a thousand unspoken words. They were always a strange couple: like the dry sand and the sea which inevitably ended up kissing each other. She hated his “stone hearted dry pragmatism” and he hated her land of utopia; she hated his eternal silence and he hated to wait for a moment of silence, she hated his dry humor and he hated her “hysterical spasms of joy”…..Yet when they were away the hatreds were in unison- he hated to miss her and she hated to miss him. Their respective pillows were witness to a thousand resolutions that they would not never see each other again.
The morning of denial matured into the noon on that very bench, where they were supposed to meet and buy a gift on the way to a friend’s birthday. He was spot on the time and she was late as usual. The arena was all set for a shouting match. The sun, sea and the sand looked on in apprehension. He looked at her, moved his lips as the words on his lips delivered a coup and went back into his throat. She looked at him, her eardrums anticipating the words that never came. He just stood there with the wind getting restless with his flowing locks. All that they had known long back but never accepted even with their lips to their pillows was conveyed in a thousand unspoken words in one moment of silent madness. He walked towards her; their hands completed the coup of the words, coming together involuntarily. As they walked on the wind and the sea did their best to make up for the absence of syllables.
It was all six years ago or may be a century ago- she could not tell, nor could the sun, the sea and the sand. Today too he had come spot on the time and she was as usual late. Today she wanted his wait to be eternal but she knew that like the denial six years ago this one too had to end. The stage was again set to be drowned in a sea of words- complaints, excuses, explanations, expectations. The noon was melting into the evening and the wind had deserted the sea. The creak of the bench registered her presence on it. They didn’t look at each other and for a few seconds or an eon, both could not tell, the only sounds they heard were the rustling of clothes against skin. He turned to her and she to him- their eyes looked into the abyss in the other. They groped for those turncoat words that had deserted them six years earlier. In all that had changed in these years the words had not and they still remained renegade. Probably they didn’t realize that today they were not needed- they had lost their importance in all these years.
Her eyes still groped in his- searching for that glimmer of hope that she would never find. His eyes did the same. An epitaph was being written- and epitaph of everything that they ever had. Both knew none could stop it now. The moment had passed. Now the epitaph could not be effaced. Today the eyes had made up for the thousand unspoken words. She didn’t notice when he walked away. He didn’t notice when he walked away, he had left himself forever on that bench.
The darkness had descended upon the beach. The bench was deserted. On it lay a thousand unspoken words wondering if they could have saved the carcass that was buried there, had they not played the deserting game today. Alas they were too late- a thousand unspoken words………
It had all started six years ago on this very bench with an exchange of a thousand unspoken words. They were always a strange couple: like the dry sand and the sea which inevitably ended up kissing each other. She hated his “stone hearted dry pragmatism” and he hated her land of utopia; she hated his eternal silence and he hated to wait for a moment of silence, she hated his dry humor and he hated her “hysterical spasms of joy”…..Yet when they were away the hatreds were in unison- he hated to miss her and she hated to miss him. Their respective pillows were witness to a thousand resolutions that they would not never see each other again.
The morning of denial matured into the noon on that very bench, where they were supposed to meet and buy a gift on the way to a friend’s birthday. He was spot on the time and she was late as usual. The arena was all set for a shouting match. The sun, sea and the sand looked on in apprehension. He looked at her, moved his lips as the words on his lips delivered a coup and went back into his throat. She looked at him, her eardrums anticipating the words that never came. He just stood there with the wind getting restless with his flowing locks. All that they had known long back but never accepted even with their lips to their pillows was conveyed in a thousand unspoken words in one moment of silent madness. He walked towards her; their hands completed the coup of the words, coming together involuntarily. As they walked on the wind and the sea did their best to make up for the absence of syllables.
It was all six years ago or may be a century ago- she could not tell, nor could the sun, the sea and the sand. Today too he had come spot on the time and she was as usual late. Today she wanted his wait to be eternal but she knew that like the denial six years ago this one too had to end. The stage was again set to be drowned in a sea of words- complaints, excuses, explanations, expectations. The noon was melting into the evening and the wind had deserted the sea. The creak of the bench registered her presence on it. They didn’t look at each other and for a few seconds or an eon, both could not tell, the only sounds they heard were the rustling of clothes against skin. He turned to her and she to him- their eyes looked into the abyss in the other. They groped for those turncoat words that had deserted them six years earlier. In all that had changed in these years the words had not and they still remained renegade. Probably they didn’t realize that today they were not needed- they had lost their importance in all these years.
Her eyes still groped in his- searching for that glimmer of hope that she would never find. His eyes did the same. An epitaph was being written- and epitaph of everything that they ever had. Both knew none could stop it now. The moment had passed. Now the epitaph could not be effaced. Today the eyes had made up for the thousand unspoken words. She didn’t notice when he walked away. He didn’t notice when he walked away, he had left himself forever on that bench.
The darkness had descended upon the beach. The bench was deserted. On it lay a thousand unspoken words wondering if they could have saved the carcass that was buried there, had they not played the deserting game today. Alas they were too late- a thousand unspoken words………
posted by Wanderer @ 2:45 PM
2 Comments:
your way of writing is good. you know, ur writing lang. nice one.
Really liked this one. Wonderful metaphors.. Loved the way you have involved nature.. Sun, sea and sand. A very very poetic story. You should do some serious writing, really!
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