Saga of Silence,Colour of Blankness and Writer’s Solitude


I remember the river bed.. one can climb down to the edge of the river and gaze at the slowly flowing water for hours. I do not remember the reason I climbed down and sit there on the edge of the water where no one was present. It was the river, riverbed and the silence. The silence.. that was what I was looking for. This was years back. But I still remember the silence. The silence which spoke to me… My soul was searching somebody to speak to… Yes, the silence spoke to me…

Growing up near the sea in a beautiful island was a privilege we took for granted.. Where people spend thousands in foreign currency to come and be on the same place we grew up and neglected every day. But I remember those moments, where you can see the blue ocean taking up the blankness of the sky… What I gazed at was the blankness. The blankness of nothing… Yet there is everything in blankness, everything you dream of…

I often wonder how the poets get their inspiration and novelists get their creativity. How artists put their emotions to take a form of life on a blank canvas. Yes, the blankness of nothing can create everything. Silence speaks to you thousand words. When you read a novel and admire the art, you can see the silence come into words. The blankness creating the various forms in the life’s canvas.

I remember a moment when my father took me to his village when I was small. I remember the tiny cottage up in a small hill, surrounded by fruit trees and fragrant flowers. I was lying in a straw mat at the night and listening to elders talking in a slow pace. Yes, the pace was slow… It mingled with the darkness and the small oil lamp spreading a balmy light. The right pace of life to retire into the luxury of good night’s sleep, where the five-star comfort of the world’s best hotel would not offer.

I think every one of us searches a moment of solitude in our lives… That moment gives us our own space in-universe. Today’s life is full of chaos and responsibilities… Gone are the days you have a moment to listen to the silence. Gone are the days to gaze at the blankness. Finally, I end up in a developed country where most people on that island I grew up, would be dreaming to live in.. Finally, I am walking in one of the big cities in the world, regarded as one of the best places to live.

Suddenly in one moment, I craved for the silence in my solitary riverbed. Suddenly I wanted to gaze at the blankness of the sky and sea… Suddenly I wanted to sleep soundly cradled in carefree darkness, listening to elders speaking quietly… That pace of life you feel the inner security and mind is free… Those moments of solitude you get connected to the universe

This is why suddenly I decided to become a writer…

(P.S.- The tropical island which I grew up is Sri Lanka, surrounded by sea, never short of flowing rivers and riverbeds full of fragrant flowers. Distant villages where the time still stands still. The pace of life is calm and quiet. I feel the craving for those moments and places while living and working in big cities in Australia.. Above prose penned by me in a very short time, during that brief time I re-lived the moments and spaces of my childhood. Do you agree writing is a process to heal? Don’t you think writers search solitude in life by re-living those moments?)

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