Quiet Abode: The House on the Hill
We are on top of the hill surrounded by all these trees. It’s very quiet here. There’s a stream running nearby. The sound of water splashing is the main background score. The rest is a feeble interruption. Birds chirp from time to time. They seem confident in their chirping. It’s like they own this town.
Everyone else is speaking softly. People don’t call out other people’s names from across the room. They walk up to that person, tap on their shoulder or get close enough to whisper their name and say what they want to say.
We speak softly too. No one asked us to, but we mimic the norms. It’s like you behave corporate in a corporate setting. And you behave rowdy in a rowdy setting. This is a soft speaking setting. I like it though. There are too many obnoxious loud people down the hill. It’s good to be in a soft speaking zone for a change.
I don’t know how it became a soft-speaking zone though. It may be the aura of the place. Or maybe when you are cohabiting with thousands of other organisms that are not homo sapiens, you need to leave your homo sapien ego down the hill and become quiet and respectful. Or maybe the quiet is so divine, it silences whatever it was you were going to utter.
It is said and I am paraphrasing, “If your words are not better than the silence, you should not speak.” Maybe it’s that. Maybe our words are in fact not better than the silence. So we try to not disturb the thousands of insects, crickets, squirrels, birds and worms that are tolerant of the intrusion.
There is a small diner at the top of the hill. We take two flights of stairs to reach there for dinner. There are two families there with kids. The smaller kid is having an animated fight with the playful adult. I like playful adults. Always liked them as a kid. They gave me hope that not all adults are serious, strict and unhappy.
The playful guy is suggesting ridiculous ways to have fun. The girl is quick to point out how stupid is the idea. The agility in her replies signals at the confident genes she has acquired. Likely from her mother. I see the mother. She commands the child with her gaze into behaving. She is a confident woman.
The kid caught my eye and stopped in her animation for a second. I smile at her. She is still looking at me. Maybe I am also fascinating. This time I wave at her. She doesn’t wave back but she is still looking, suspicious at my intentions. I do not want to be perceived as a psychopath killer so I look away. It’s risky mingling with other people’s kids in big cities. People are too “woke” now. They construct boundaries from early on.
Once I was stuck in a supermarket due to rain. A kid was running between her parents’ legs. I smile at her, she becomes all coy. So I look away. Then she runs and comes back to me to see my reaction. I smile again. This hide and seek continued for a while then the parents took her out. I just hoped they didn’t take offense. Maybe they did, who knows. Maybe this is where parents teach their kids to not talk to strangers. Or smile at them. I am that stranger.
In my town, I could have gone up to the kid, pulled her cheeks or maybe caressed her hair and the parent would have smiled or have asked the kid to say “Hi”. But times have changed. And cities too.
There is a couple there as well. They do not have happy faces. But the other day I saw them having tea near the balcony engrossed in a slow conversation. Maybe they still have some romance left in them.
It made me wonder what kind of face I have. I never smile at strangers. Do I have a resting bitch face? I will have to check. But I smile at kids. I try to be that playful adult for kids. Most kids don’t take me seriously. I like it. I don’t want to be taken seriously by kids. I like that they come up to me with their tiny problems and stories. I like that I can scold kids and they still come back. It reinforces that words matter, but intention matters the most.
Anyway, the kids are somewhat loud in that repartee. I can imagine the snails, birds and worms rolling their eyes at the homo sapien kids. But then they would understand. They have loud kids of their own. Don’t they?
We take the stairs down to go back to our rooms. On the way, stumbling on stony paths and balancing on muddy narrow ways. We will be quiet for some more time and then we’ll sleep. It’s lovely here.