Words always seem to fail me, or may be, I fail words. I always have a problem expressing my exact opinions, feelings, thoughts and other things I can’t find words for in words. Some people are jack of languages. I envy them. Authors, poets, lawyers and boasters fall in this category. They always seem to know what they want to talk or write. By the time I am done writing this little jig, I would have gone through this masterpiece a thousand times and yet it shall lie in anonymity. I wish I could go back and “proof talk” what I speak to avoid the awkwardly embarrassing pits I have fallen into.
Of course there are a zillion ways of expressing emotions. Words, works, wands and what not’s. The one which leaves a strong impression is the physical way of expression. What we write we remember better, what we physically feel we recall well. I always felt a touch of hand, a reassuring kiss, an open embrace and in most cases a stern stupefying stare, which is quiet a frequent phenomenon with me, work wonders than a string of broken words coming out in various intensities. I have had the best conversations in silence. I have had the worst altercations in speech. So alls fine as long as I am in the physical vicinity of people and if I keep shut which although is a burdening task, works well and then we all live happily ever after. Unfortunately that is never the case. What cripples me in this fast growing yet vastly shrinking world is the non verbal form of communication. Chat rooms and archived conversations – my recent nightmares. I can no longer differentiate between genuine and ingenuine thoughts. And well, look who is not left behind - awkward silences follow the trail here too. Meanwhile, browsing through the past histories, digging up issues has become an addiction in an attempt to prove few points.
I wish we could go back to the time when people cherished the few hand written words written once in a blue moon rather than fouling over accessible conversations. I wish we could go back to the time when languages were treated as a form of art, means of profound expressions. I wish we could go back when words flew like a river, fluent, vast in meaning, when people knew what they were talking and when people could understand each other without having to go through thousand conversations, when the narrations of true love and fierce wars left an impression in our minds. I wish I knew that one language perfectly so that you would understand what I am trying to say.
