Talkative
“Bang…Bang…Bang…” The door barked and sneezed a creak due to the force of the thumps.
“This can’t be good.” He said to himself. “That’s an old door, no one respects elderly anymore.” He chuckled at his wit but quickly look around to see if anyone heard him. The windows were shut, drapes were still, wind chimes were stationary and the walls didn’t crack too. He remained unheard.
“I better go and check who it is before the door is beaten to pulp.” As his feet hit the floor, a cold, steely sensation reverberated through his body, breaking his pandiculation halfway to its conclusion. His slippers probably slipped away somewhere under the bed. He didn’t feel the need to look for them as the pouncing on the door continued and amplified.
The messenger barged in as soon as he opened the door. The door closed softly behind as if conveying a grateful smile. “You are welcome.” He whispered. The messenger was pacing in the room impatiently, waiting for him to conclude his formalities with the door. As he turned towards the messenger, he knew this is not going to be a pleasant conversation. “Great. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Have a seat, Dad. You know you are always welcome here.” He tried to conceal the acidic nature of his greeting, but who said he was having a good day! The bruises of his sharp tongue quickly appeared on his father’s face. His tone was not welcomed, as always. So what is it going to be today? He had stayed out of trouble for quite a long time now. His father coming to see him warranted a serious matter, since he took time out of his usual engagements of watching news, sports, political debates, stock trading, basically anything but him. “Prepare for impact.” He muttered under his lips softly, not to cause any further damage than already inflicted.
“Son, we need to talk.” Ah, yes. Talk. That has not been done in a long time. He wondered if his father even remembered how it is done, since it has not been practiced in like, decades. Let’s take it for a spin, he thought. “Sure Dad, what’s troubling you?” “You.”
“Me? But I have not done or said anything. In ages. To anyone. And same goes for others as well. Conversations are long dead and buried. We all have been given our windows to the world to stare and we are all hooked. We don’t bother anyone anymore. What could possibly I have done to upset you?”
“Son, don’t wordplay with me. I am your father, I know every move you make.” “Now that’s a tall claim, old man!” He chuckled to neutralize the conversation. His father was not amused. “Misfire.” He lowered his gaze and started picking the floor with his toenail. “What are the charges, My Lord?” Acidic. Careful boy, he said to himself.
“We have received complaints from almost everywhere. Family, friends, your colleagues, our neighbors.” “But I don’t mingle with anyone! I don’t talk to anyone! Just like you raised me to. I sit in front of the TV, listen to radio, read sometimes and sit in the window to look how the weather is today. I wake up every day, get ready, have my breakfast, go to office, finish my deliverable and come back home, to the confines of my own room. I meet my friends on the weekends, we go out, and then again, back to the room. We have family dinner, all of us gathered on the table, we eat and then, yes, you guessed it right, back to the room. I am failing to understand how I could have possibly bothered anyone in that routine. You were the one who asked me not to engage with anyone in conversation as my thoughts and tone were not welcomed. You are the first person in decades I am actually having a conversation with. What’s the matter??”
“Son, enough with the wailing and wimping. You know we all love you. You are one of us, despite your visible flaws, which you stubbornly refuse to work on. We have reached the pinnacle of human existence in harmony. Every individual is engrossed in their own selves. No ties, no obligations, no commitments. Back in my time, if you didn’t nod to another person, you were considered snob. Now, it’s invasion of privacy. People are leaving each other alone. For a change, and a good one at that, no one HAS to talk to anyone. Which is why we asked you to do the same, so you don’t stand out and appear out of place.”
“It’s like we are stuck under a broken record needle, Dad. I told you, I haven’t spoken to anyone.” “I am not talking about your words, Son. It’s your face. The way you have been expressing through your face. Your disgust, your anguish, your hurt, your sorrow, your indifference. You are making people around you uncomfortable. We are part of this society now. We don’t want to be an outcast because of your attitude.”
“So, I have to silence my……face?? Is that what you are saying? (What is he smoking nowadays!)” “Yes, Son. We can’t chain you into this room, but as long as you have our family name, you will not disturb or bother another human with your caustic expressions. Consider this final warning.”
The door slammed and heaved a sigh. He was left puzzled. So this is what it has come to. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at this face, with a long stare. I have to adjust. I have to conform. “We talked about this! Look, you got me into trouble!” He screamed at the mirror. This needs to be fixed. I cannot be a nuisance. This world has no place for words, so be it.
With a maddening rush in his head, he smashed his face in the mirror. The mirror shattered and splattered on the floor beneath him. In the shards of the broken mirror, he could see his face, blood oozing and malformed. He tried to conjure a smile, didn’t work.
That’s it. I am silent now. Forever.
The END.
