Skip to main content

The Silent Saint

A saint sitting on a silent island,
mastering silently the art of meditation,
Seems satisfied with soundlessness, wordlessness, voicelessness and speechlessness of the vicinity. 
The reticence that his soul holds signals, towards something for sure that is concealed, unsaid, unheard and may be suppressed.
Pensive and spiritual are outwardly his ways,
deep down inside the silent cave of his superficially silent heart,
There can be traces of some painful scars.
 With his stern silence on the silent island,
he might be venturing to find the scheme of salvation for constantly screaming earthly souls,
because to practice and preach selflessness is his sole goal.
Amid his silent ways and prayers surprisingly and contrastingly the silent island, 
Like an orphaned baby awaits for the painful silence to break,
It awaits for sweet chiruppings of the little  birds to fill the silence of its surface.
For constant sea waves to strike its silent shores to end the tranquility with a lively tumult.
For strong gusts to blow and with gushing sounds sweep its silent sod and silt.
The silent island constantly longs for silent saint to realize that while hushed up screams of silence  are lethal and deadly,
The stream of nature's saccharine sounds are always lively and healing.
Sounds are the source of poetry,
Sounds are the base of music,
Sounds are the foundation of everything that's worth finding and fighting for.
















Comments

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

Working Mom

  The title of this write-up may make no sense and might seem whimsical to some. Yet, I couldn't think of any other, though I did try to run the horses of my mind for hours to replace it with a better one. Anyhow, its content, I hope, is worth reading. This may sound contrary to me,a language teacher who always guided  pupils to choose eye-catching and gripping titles for their work. Yesterday, a phone call from my twenty-one-year-old daughter led to a discussion  about the parents’ rights over children. I, being a mother, feel that a mother—being the carrier of her baby in the womb for nine long months and then bringing the baby into this world with unimaginable pain has rights to advocate. I told her about how difficult it is for a mother to stay away from her children, especially toddlers. I shared with her the hardest choice I had to make when she was just one and a half years old and my elder child was  three. It was one of the toughest years of my marriage....
9 comments
Read more

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...
10 comments
Read more

Silence

Silence is serene. Silence is solace. In several ways, silence saves the savage soul. Silence is static, strong, like sky-kissing mountains circling a sleepy hill town. Silence is somber when it stems from sadness. Silence strives to sleep over sickening strategies. Silence confers the childlike sleep upon the soulful, while it steals the peace of the soulless. Silence smiles and silences all conjectures. For a few, silence is a sweet remedy; for others, silence is a malady. For some, silence is a question impossible to crack. For others, silence is the answer to every crux. For some, silence is a shield. For others, the sharpest knife, the searing scythe. Most times, aparently silence saves bonds. At times, it breaks them into forms unrecognizable. Silence wears the face of a silent sage, yet stands indisputed as  a symbol of untamed rage. Life screams. Death silences. silence is a voice in itself, raising walls too high for unwanted noise to climb. Silence is a misunderstood path...
12 comments
Read more