a prescription for silence

March 5, 2011 § 5 Comments

too many things inside my head. the stupid, vapid clickclickclick  of the internet, hours approach and blink and sidle away while i float glassy eyed through them, thinking of nothing and everything. i sleep too lightly, my eyes are shot and my head aches dully with thousands of sharp-edged, disjointed phrases echoing endlessly off the inside of my skull, a nightmare mashup of tax, investment law and (present distraction) stephen king (carrie). i walk to class and it surprises me every time the cruel suddenness with which the light cuts into my face, always the five seconds of disorientation where i lean on the tree twisted by lightning and the bark is cool against my skin, which always seems to be too warm, too warm these days..

all day i seem to talk soft superfluities with a mouth that is filled with cotton that i can’t see; i dutifully spit snippets of keywords gleaned from conversations overheard whose context i can only guess at. conversations begun in a halfhearted effort to remain coherent dissolve into tuneless mental renditions of songs i’d forgotten existed.

this night i lay spread-eagled on the tank right over there, next to those two buildings. the air was cold and still and the sky was very clear. there is a curious lack of perspective in the night sky here, the stars are always large and flat and extraordinarily bright, only an arm’s length away.  i shut my eyes. in the beginning i could still feel the starlight and the streetlights on my eyelids, but soon i couldn’t tell. it was a funny state in between wakefulness and sleep where for one merciful, fluid moment of eternity, my head was completely empty. there was not a single thought in there. i have no idea how long i lay there.

i did something like this once on a beach at covelong a few years back. i hired a cycle at a beach resort where my parents were (at that time) recovering from Life, cycled to the dead private beach at the very end of it, and flopped down on my back in the shallows.

that day and that place were different, though. it was very hot. a thin, salty mist lay suspended over the still pools of seawater that would collect inside the black rock formations where i lay like a fat, dying fish. i shut my eyes and every so often, water would wash over my ears and my hair in warm waves.

when i opened my eyes i’d be blinded by the glare of the afternoon sun right overhead, like a sheet of burning whitemetal giftwrapping the sky, and when i shut my eyes again, the sunlight would set off brilliant purple and orange fireworks inside my eyelids.

i never wanted to leave.

i think i need to go somewhere that i won’t be allowed to read and won’t be expected to talk for a good long time. for the first time in my life, any mental stimulation makes me want to throw up, but throwing up takes more energy than i have, so i will probably curl into a ball and go quietly to sleep instead, a stupid, restless sleep that is of no use to anyone, the only kind of sleep i am getting these days.

i can say with reasonable confidence that i have no idea what is going on, but i want it to stop.


§ 5 Responses to a prescription for silence

  • Karthik says:

    Neelangarai beach gives one considerable isolation, and I rather prefer it to Marina and Bessie. Do check it out if you haven’t been to that part of the coastline. The anglicised ‘covelong’ sounds disturbing :)

  • abhishek says:


  • @karthik – haha, ‘covelong’ was on the official address of the resort. i don’t think i’ve been to neelangarai beach, i usually end up at broken bridge when i want to bum around alone.

    @abhishek – thank you.

  • soin says:

    instead of the stars and tank its the blinking cursor and the 14th floor overlooking the nh8 for me. every time i stay late and look out its like millions of tail lights and yet all far away.you just want to get in one and drive far away and vanish.sigh.random place polambal is in fashion

  • ManD says:

    Beach and silence are blissful,truly…but I liked your writing…Supreme,it is…more so your thinking…its intriguing…:):)

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