Years of loquaciousness have quite left bereft of appreciation for the language of the unspoken. Recently when someone put it to me so tacitly and in no uncertain terms that I generally gave my vocal chords the exercise that the rest of body needs, I decided to pay a little more attention to the inaudible and give M/s. hammer, anvil and stirrups with offices in my middle ear a much deserved and well earned respite. So it was that I began a personal mission to take cognizance of the unsaid all around me and I discovered for the first time in my life the existence of an interaction super highway at levels I had not even thought possible of crediting the human body with before I began this little experiment of mine. In fact I became so acutely aware of this ultra high frequency mode of emotion and information transmission that I began rummaging through the drawers of my memory to search for signs that I had somehow been subjected to this routine sub consciously even though I might have not realized it and suffice it to say that I was pleasantly surprised
The earliest that I can remember me being subjected to inaudible conversations is actually quite a painful occurrence. It refers to those big terrifying eyes that Ma would make to deliver a succinct, clear message “you are dead”. The message was loud and clear, clearer than you could hope to get on a 64 channel mixer amplifier system employing 50000 watt Bose speakers. In fact the amount of dilation of the pupils would actually relay the intensity of soup that I had landed myself into. A cursory flash of the eyes meant that there was still hope of salvaging the situation and I would do myself the greatest favor by evaporating into thin air. Any stare longer than 5 seconds meant that nothing less the tear glands working overtime would be sufficient to buy me passage into the rest of my remaining loath existence. Things have since then evolved much between us and now the pupil dilation has been nudged out of prominence by the eye roll and exasperated hand splaying to distinctly convey utter disappointment. But what I still live for is the smile that tells me that I am home. What still sets the worst disappointment in my life right is the phone ring at 8:30 sharp whatever part of the world any one of us may be in. What still gives me the courage to go on is the nod of my father’s head saying that he is there to catch me when I fall.
I would credit my fourth grade teacher as the person who would list second chronologically in my list of unspoken conversations. One look at her face at you could gauge the score in the latest test. A buoyant look on her face while she handed you your paper meant a certain perfect score while an extended frown and a snap of the wrist as she tossed the paper in your direction meant “your parents are going to have a heart attack this PTA”. How’s that for unspoken conversation in shorthand? Her facial expression as she entered the classroom would be enough to tell us whether the day would be god level fun while understanding the social sciences in our society or a scornful drone over how we were neglecting our studies and fritting away the chance to a better life. Looks like I was much better at this when I was a kid than I am now. Much like a skill lost due to disuse.
Now that I put my mind to it, I can clearly see the intensity of emotions as Bhupathi bangs his chest against Paes’. How could I have missed Tendulkar’s sentence as he took stance against Warne? It seriously offends me to find my faculties found wanting so much when I realize now that my best friend’s pat on the back as I won the first prize gave me more joy than anything else in the world. Just wish I had done that more often to more people. How could I not have understood this potent mode of communication when the most glaring example was staring me in the face? Did any of us living in the hostel trying to wade our way through engineering have to proclaim brotherhood to become a part of the family? The understanding that we would see other through thick and thin and each other’s joys and sorrows would be taken as personally as possible was an unwritten unsaid oath that bound us together as strongly then as it does today.And today as I earn my livelihood as a manager, nothing drives home the need for the unsaid better than the little pat on the back and a little nod which just says that a job was well done. I don’t know about you but my day starts better if my Boss greets me in the morning with a smile. Tells me that at least the hour before he starts checking his e mail is going to go ok for me. Now who gets the stare today? I’m also somebody’s boss you know!
The earliest that I can remember me being subjected to inaudible conversations is actually quite a painful occurrence. It refers to those big terrifying eyes that Ma would make to deliver a succinct, clear message “you are dead”. The message was loud and clear, clearer than you could hope to get on a 64 channel mixer amplifier system employing 50000 watt Bose speakers. In fact the amount of dilation of the pupils would actually relay the intensity of soup that I had landed myself into. A cursory flash of the eyes meant that there was still hope of salvaging the situation and I would do myself the greatest favor by evaporating into thin air. Any stare longer than 5 seconds meant that nothing less the tear glands working overtime would be sufficient to buy me passage into the rest of my remaining loath existence. Things have since then evolved much between us and now the pupil dilation has been nudged out of prominence by the eye roll and exasperated hand splaying to distinctly convey utter disappointment. But what I still live for is the smile that tells me that I am home. What still sets the worst disappointment in my life right is the phone ring at 8:30 sharp whatever part of the world any one of us may be in. What still gives me the courage to go on is the nod of my father’s head saying that he is there to catch me when I fall.
I would credit my fourth grade teacher as the person who would list second chronologically in my list of unspoken conversations. One look at her face at you could gauge the score in the latest test. A buoyant look on her face while she handed you your paper meant a certain perfect score while an extended frown and a snap of the wrist as she tossed the paper in your direction meant “your parents are going to have a heart attack this PTA”. How’s that for unspoken conversation in shorthand? Her facial expression as she entered the classroom would be enough to tell us whether the day would be god level fun while understanding the social sciences in our society or a scornful drone over how we were neglecting our studies and fritting away the chance to a better life. Looks like I was much better at this when I was a kid than I am now. Much like a skill lost due to disuse.
Now that I put my mind to it, I can clearly see the intensity of emotions as Bhupathi bangs his chest against Paes’. How could I have missed Tendulkar’s sentence as he took stance against Warne? It seriously offends me to find my faculties found wanting so much when I realize now that my best friend’s pat on the back as I won the first prize gave me more joy than anything else in the world. Just wish I had done that more often to more people. How could I not have understood this potent mode of communication when the most glaring example was staring me in the face? Did any of us living in the hostel trying to wade our way through engineering have to proclaim brotherhood to become a part of the family? The understanding that we would see other through thick and thin and each other’s joys and sorrows would be taken as personally as possible was an unwritten unsaid oath that bound us together as strongly then as it does today.And today as I earn my livelihood as a manager, nothing drives home the need for the unsaid better than the little pat on the back and a little nod which just says that a job was well done. I don’t know about you but my day starts better if my Boss greets me in the morning with a smile. Tells me that at least the hour before he starts checking his e mail is going to go ok for me. Now who gets the stare today? I’m also somebody’s boss you know!
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