04 April 2007

A lil adda for the soul

I didnt whiz past them yesterday. I had seen them just once before, but obviously they were regulars. They would gather in front of the metro station for a little adda, just before heading home... you know, that lil bit with friends which makes all the difference between drudgery and living.

They were about 7-8 men, all dressed in either semi-cotton or terycot shirts and trousers with their shirts hanging out, and seemed to be animatedly discussing something. And, as it happens, there were cross-conversations that were part of the bigger conversation. A man, perhaps the oldest in the group, was sitting down in the centre of the group on a stool borrowed from the street food vendors.

But I couldnt eavesdrop, I couldnt understand what they were talkin about. Theirs was a language which made no sound. Fingers danced about in the air angrily, and lips moved. But it was all silence to me.

Perhaps that's how it feels to be left out.

7 comments:

Praveen R. Bhat said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
anand balaji said...

Beautiful prose... touching sentences.

Vijayalaxmi Hegde said...

Tanku saaar

misch said...

i often find myself killing that feeling of being left out by creating a sub world in ma mind. that's my sweet revenge. :-D
but nice bit of writing viji. esp - fingers danced...

Vijayalaxmi Hegde said...

Thanks Mish :) What I was actually trying to get across was the divide created by sound/silence between us who can hear and talk and those who cant. Did I get that feelin across? Me feelin left out was not the point.
I ask, coz another person, too, got this post wrong.

sulagana said...

this was beautiful.

sulagana said...

this was beautiful!