Silence is the tortured mans revenge – Shantaram
As another uneventful day passes by as I lay down on the rug and close my eyes, with my head doing a balancing act on the unevenly air inflated pillow I’m thinking of a million things. Sleep refuses to set in. After a finite number of failed bullying tactics on the eyelids (like close or lord voldermont will come to get you types) they refuse to be beaten down and pop open kinda like the air filled punching toys I used to play with when I was young. No matter how hard I hit then they used to bounce back right up. So the eyes resist foreclosure. They scan the false white ceiling. The room is dark. The only light in the room is from the led lamps on the neighbor’s laptop. The white ceiling reminds of the celluloid screen of my life : past – over, present – uncertain, future – unknown. I suddenly am aware of the eerie silence. There is awful lot of quiet around me. I strain my ears hard to pick up some noises as the silence is maddening. Recession induced over-thinking itself is crazy and to be in a calm serene noiseless environment is suicidal. Slowly faint but steady noises impede on my ear drums. aah what a bliss. The ticking away of the table clock. The silent farts and the loud snores of the neighbors.The scampering of the house rat on the kitchen floor as it pillages the leftovers. The rustle of the leaves outside the window. The chemical reaction of bile and other digestive juices in the stomach. The foot stomping on the guys up stairs as one of them (I’m guessing it is the heavy one for sure) as he rushes to take a leak. The sound of the tank being flushed. The sound of sewage running in the overhead pipes. The laptop fan running at full speed. The shzz sound made by yahoo messenger when someone logs in(which I guess is still running on the un-shutdown laptop.) The dripping noise of the tap in the adjoining bathroom. Neighbors scratching bedbug attacked parts of the skin. Involuntary hand and leg movements under the covers. The creaking of the door. The rhythmic beating of the heart. The loud screeching noise made by a passing car. The periodic oscillations made by the portable heater. The sudden sleep talking of the neighbor.
I am making a mental list of all these sounds when it dawns upon me that if I were to be locked up in a solitary confinement in a sound proof chamber and forced to listen to only the sound of a ticking clock I would certainly go crazy. This thought alone is enough for me to crash immediately 😀
p.s. finished Shantaram after a 12 hour reading marathon. The book is delightful and gripping. And this blog has entered the third year of it’s existence 😉