Words of a dumb
It rained hard
And we observed the afternoon sky
That had grown so sullen and grey
He sat on the chair and I, on my bed
Both wrapped in shawls
Chatting over a cup of tea,
My mother had prepared for us.
And my continuous, uninterrupted
And somewhat rambling talks
Did not irritate him the least.
He listened intently, without complain
And a sweet evergreen smile
Adored his face throughout.

He, my new village friend
Unlike other village folks
Was humble, mannered, and shy
And his endearing smile
Could please anyone.

There was silence after sometime
Forbidding, unconquered silence
That over engulfed and vexed me.
Couldn’t he start the conversation?
How unpleasant, I thought.
But his smile compelled me to think again
And I started the talk, once again.

I once stole into his room
With a friend of mine
And discovered his paintings
Temples; gracefully depicted nature, in its numerous hues
Green landscapes, dancing maidens & smiling faces.
So beautiful, so expressive
As if had their own language to speak.
I appreciated his work
And he just smiled back.

Sometimes he played on his flute
Some of his composed tunes
And what a magic the music had…
Mingled with it, I was in a trance.
I admired his skill
And again he just smiled back..

On the day of our departure
He too came to bid me farewell,
With the same smile….
And handed me a goodbye gift
It was a painting
O! It was my portrait…
So exact, so real and so lively.
I thanked him, and as I had guessed
Once again….
He just smiled back.

Just before entering the car
I asked my friend
Why does he never talk?
Her reply made my heart skip a beat.
He was dumb.

His smile spoke so much
That I did not even guess
That he couldn’t speak.

As our car started off
He waved to me to say bye…
And I waved back..

pratikshya mishra