Talk, Talk, Talk: the utter stupidity of words

“I don't think..." 

"Then you shouldn't talk", said the Hatter. 

~ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

There are some people who talk too much.

Some who talk unnecessarily.

Some who talk before they think.

And some who talk because they can't (think). 

You know, the kinds who started with a wiring defect that caused their brains to never be connected to their mouth.

Now for some strange reason, I seem to be a beacon, a homing device, a mother ship, that calls out to each and every one of these categories. 

Especially the last one. 

The more I try to avoid them or shut one up with a curt retort, a few more replace the first like the head of the Lernaean Hydra and home in. 

Note: I have been reading Homer's Illiad of late, which explains my current obsession with metaphors based on Greek mythology. 

All my life, I have had more than my share of people giving me unrequited information and advice on weight loss, diet and exercise. I have had dry cleaners telling me about the slimming benefits of certain foods, maids telling me about Chinese herbal medicines that make you lose weight and once I even had a stranger give me a DVD of a Bollywood dance exercise video for me to lose weight. 

Yes, really. 

No, am not kidding.

And that person wasn't even selling or promoting that video either! But she dutifully came over the subsequent day and handed me the video before my brain could reject or forget all the gyaan she imparted on exercising.

Over the years, I have come to make peace with this phenomenon by ignoring these supposedly well-intentioned good samaritans and fighting the urge to pummel them to the ground and then jump on them till they get reduced to mulch. 

Instead, I have had to make do with running that vision over and over again in my head.

But these are mere fledglings when compared to those, who on meeting you, will immediately shoot intensely personal questions at you, without so much as batting an eyelid.

"Why aren't you still married?"

"Why don't you have kids? Is there some problem?"

"Oh my God I couldn't believe it when I heard about your divorce"

"So do you know who are your child's birth parents?"

"I heard about your miscarriage, it is so sad..."

"I heard about your husband and the other woman.... these young girls I tell you...."

Forget evaluating the appropriateness of their act, these nitwits don't even let the teeny tiny detail of them not knowing you, ever stand in the way of them seeking out answers immediately after the cursory Hello is dispensed with.

Years back, I used to handle such questions with equally rude responses; for instance questions like "Why don't you wear sindoor/ bangles?" were always met with a "Oh! Don't you know I am a child widow?" or some such obnoxious answer which was quite effective in shutting people up and refraining them from pursuing anything further.

These days however, instead asking them to "buzz off" or wanting to land one tight slap on the person's face, in my older and wiser avatar, I make an effort to be more restrained, explain boundaries and the fact that there is only so much that a stranger can ask or be told.

Some time back, someone I barely know or would ever want to know, sidled up to me, and as a way of making conversation, whispered into my ear, "So M, don't you ever worry about what you will do if your kids are gay?"

I took a deep, long breath. 

Counted backwards from ten so I didn't end up saying something I would regret later.

And then mustered all my calm, I shot her a withering look and said, "Really? Is that your worst nightmare? Have you ever thought that your kid could turn into a school dropout, or peddle drugs, or  bully other kids or molest and harass women or becomes an axe murderer? But if that fact he or she chooses to be open and honest about his sexual preferences is what is what worries you then you seriously need to get your priorities in order, my dear".

I did hope something of what I said, did go into her head that day. 

But honestly, I am not so sure.

When I started writing, this post was not to be about one of my pet peeves. 

It was supposed to be about about the value of silence.

But like people have no inbuilt brake when they talk, looks like I have none when I write..

So I shall stop now and before you tell me to shut up and practise what I am ranting about.

So here's to Silence.

or Bolti Bandh, as MTV called it.

You can in the meantime look at some pictures. 

Of pretty little flowers that don't believe in being loud or obnoxious to be noticed.

Title of this post inspired by William Faulkner's famous quote:  

“Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.”

“Green was the silence, wet was the light,

the month of June trembled like a butterfly.” 

~ Pablo Neruda

“In Silence there is eloquence. 

Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.” 

~ Rumi

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. 

When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” 

~ Ansel Adams

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing 

and rightdoing there is a field.

I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass

the world is too full to talk about.” 

~ Rumi