Diaries Magazine

Pain In The Silence Sounding Like A Trill – A Short Story #ShortStory #Memoir

Posted on the 26 January 2018 by Jaideep Khanduja @PebbleInWaters

More than pain in his silence it was trill that was haunting me. He was sitting alone. We have just come out of a restaurant. We had come there for dinner. Me, my wife, and our daughter. It was a cold winter night of December month in Delhi. Winter is at its peak only for two months – December and January. The restaurant is in one of the posh colonies of South Delhi. It was in a market. Very few shops are open because it was over 10.30. We were late already. It would take almost an hour or so to reach home. And even I had to book a cab through my online mobile app. Before booking the cab I was just taking some photographs of the restaurant from outside. And while trying to get a good capture I find this beggar sitting in front of a shop.

The shop was adjacent to the restaurant. It was almost dark in front of that shop. Even the pillar was not very clearly visible. But still, the light coming from the restaurant was more than enough to locate him. His age would be probably around 60. Wrapping his body in an old blanket, he was just looking in blank and singing a song. There was a unique kind of trill in his song. In fact, he was not begging. He was not seeking somebody’s company to share his pain. But he was in pain was quite apparent. Neither was he asking for food from anyone.

What a contrast it was. He was sitting quite near to a very costly restaurant. With a lot of rich people around entering and coming out of the restaurant. On top of it, the restaurant was full of a variety of costly food. Still, this man was hungry.

Pain In The Silence Sounding Like A Trill – A Short Story #ShortStory #Memoir

Silence Speaks Louder Than Words

Life is, in fact, full of contrasts. The cab had come. We were heading towards home. In fact, I am thinking about tomorrow’s agenda. The beggar in the dark, a trill in his song, and a different kind of trill in his silence, all are left behind somewhere. Still, I remember the day, the time, and the trill.

Trill


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