#CosmoShortStories Silence and Sound: a Story of Courage by Ruth Vanita

I’d been watching him for a long time. Much before the great silence began. At first, when we lived on the other side of the highway, I would see him occasionally, at a distance, going about his business. No-one would have thought him special in any way. I don’t know why I took to watching him. He seemed like kin to me, though he wasn’t.

 

After the new bund was built and shanties came up around it, we moved here. I was sorry to leave because I thought I’d never see him again. But our leaders had decided, I had no choice. It was much nicer, here, though. Greener. The traffic farther away. More space.

 

One evening, I looked across the way and there he was, standing on the terrace of a two-storied building across the way. Sleek head, meditative eyes. Subdued. A sharp profile against the sky.

 

None of the other girls seemed to be interested in him. Perhaps because he’s thin and weak-looking. Quiet. They prefer the loud, noisy strut-abouts, who are always making trouble. My tastes are strange, maybe because I’m the plainest, shyest one in our group. Everyone ignored him as they ignore me.

 

In this city, everyone is more or less a migrant. We were born here but we are migrants too, hiding in plain sight, working, foraging, chatting, cleaning up, always moving on as the buildings rise up, unbelievably higher and higher, higher than the tallest trees.
 

To outsiders, we probably all look the same or very similar to each other. They give us a wide berth and sometimes pause to take photographs. But we are not all the same. We have our own personalities, our own groups, our own outsiders and insiders. He doesn’t belong to our group. And the rules are still strict, in each new location.

 

I wouldn’t have dared cross the highway to meet him. I’d have been seen at once, by my own and by others, and possibly been killed for my unseemly behaviour. Even after we moved here, I hesitated to put myself forward.

 

Much of the time he wasn’t around. I kept watching the terrace but when he did appear, he didn’t seem to notice anyone. He certainly didn’t notice me quietly watching him. Perhaps he was hungry, living on his own. I’d have loved to take him some food. I’d have loved to join him even though it would mean leaving everyone I knew. He and I could move on, form a new group of our own.

 

Then descended the silence, the emptiness. Hardly any people passed by. Even the dogs stayed away. The constant honking died down. We continued our squabbles and reconciliations, as did the shanty dwellers, but no-one’s heart seemed to be in it. I rather liked the silence. I’m usually silent myself but I have to put up with a lot of noise.

 

When the clapping, banging, hooting, cheering broke out, some of us joined in. Did the vibrating air give me courage? Without hesitation, I suddenly flew across the narrow path and stood before him. He half-turned, looked into my eyes–a look of recognition. His tail half-opened.  Blue, glossy green and velvet black. A cacophony of stars.

 

Author Ruth Vanita