# The Touch of Silence Silence comes— a fingertip to the eyelid. The world softens. Words retreat like tide, leaving the shore strange and luminous. There is a sound beneath all sound: the hum of absence, the heartbeat of what isn't here. I have learned to listen with my skin, to read the grammar written in empty spaces. Silence speaks in the language of dust, in the dialect of closed doors, in the prayer of things that have forgotten their names. It touches us— this wordlessness— the way a ghost might lay a hand upon your shoulder, and you know, without turning, that something sacred has passed through the room.

I hold no grievance against you now. Believe me.

Even within these four walls, I have imprisoned myself so completely—like a lifeless confession sealed inside a coffin.

Why did you come to see me today, Sudhir?

All our woven memories, the tremor of old melodies—I know why you forgot them.

Your eyes say something different now!

That version of you—did I shatter him into pieces the day I came into being?

I warned you not to appear before me so suddenly, it would disturb my sleep!

These days our meetings happen at all the wrong hours.

A crow cries in the dead of night—do you know they call it a bad omen? Or is it only the confusion of light?

Your face gleams in the last glow of the full moon, the light in your eyes grown faint.

I saw you—writing continuously all week!—did you bring those writings about me?

Eight hours of sleep in four days! Why do you do this?

All right, go now—you need rest. Don't write another word about me; just let your hand rest upon me.

Don't be afraid—I know how much it unsettles you to touch this cold body.

Tonight, holding your hand so long against my chest—you're not hesitating at all, are you?

You wanted to preserve my body. You won't turn away now?

For some time now, I've been reading this one letter again and again—you wrote it for me, and it's nothing new—yet, there is a difference.

When you wrote this letter...your tears fell—the ink smeared, the letters blurred and scattered.

I still cannot finish reading it all the way through.

Why did our distance grow so suddenly?

Could you not hold me against your chest just a little longer, Sudhir?

Why did you let me go like this?