I want to write about the voices I hear, but I've nothing to write about.
The only voices I hear, are the ones in my head. These voices are so loud, they are drowning out the ones I really want to hear- the ones outside: a stranger's laughter, an old man's abuse, a child's cry, the rustling of leaves, the sound of the sea bathing the rocks at marine drive, the sound of the bell on the chaiwaala's cycle, that road vendor calling out to me, my mum's sniffing, the black car screeching to a halt.
These voices outside are not always pleasant, yes. But they are real.
The voices inside my head betray me at the most inappropriate times. When I try hard to listen to them, really listen them, only silence greets me.
Then am left deaf. Infact, that is the word I've been looking for. I feel deaf and my mind draws an empty white. Just deaf.
If I was still as articulate as earlier, I would have expressed myself in the form of poetry. But that doesn't come to me anymore. Even sentences are difficult to form. Its all bullet points and short phrases now. Shouldn't that be a good thing? But more on this later.