The Awkward Silence

by Nandini Rajagopalan

I peered through the dense vegetation, looking intently, and hopeful of finding the person whom I was looking for. At a distance, I could see a rusty bench which had probably weathered a million storms. On the bench was carelessly seated, the object of my attention. He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his handheld device, impatiently tapping his foot and humming a tune. The interspersing of the foot tapping and the faint humming made for a pleasing rhythm. Hesitantly, I trudged along the marshy ground with the little weeds kissing my ankles. I gave a faint smile, followed by a barely audible “hello”. I didn’t wait for an acknowledgment. I couldn’t care less. I blew away the dried leaves that had gathered on the dusty bench and sat down, dumping my bright blue handbag lazily on the ground.

Ours had been an “arranged marriage”; one that had been initiated by our parents; one that had had the quintessential matching of horoscopes, the meeting of the parents, and followed by other highly embarrassing formalities. It seemed as though my entire extended family was more excited than I was. I was nonchalant. So was he. Everything seemed so plastic; so sudden; so unreal. And in a flash, we were told that we would spend the rest of our lives with each other. It was not as though this was unwelcome. But maybe it was too fast. And probably, I was not ready. I don’t know why I spent the following days giving unnecessary updates about my mundane life to a total stranger. I didn’t care about the details he gave me either. I don’t know why we religiously spent talking at a pre-decided hour on the cell phone. I didn’t understand why we diligently arranged for casual meetings either. I also don’t know why we drained so many cups of coffee. Often we would pick a random third world topic and excitedly offer our opinions about it and debate it until it died a natural death. A few minutes of vibrant discussion would often be succeeded by an abrupt silence. I would look into his eyes, hoping for him to break the ice and probably bring up a second topic, but more often than not, I would be greeted by the same puzzling look that I had on my face.

I vividly remember our first lunch date. In spite of being an avid foodie, I was least bothered about the menu. I was sitting in a corner of my favorite restaurant, silently chewing my food with a forced etiquette. Occasionally we would look up and give a fake smile and then continue staring at our plates. We would then try to engross the other in uninteresting, statistical details about our professional lives. Our entire lunch was punctuated by a contrast of needless details and periods of awkward silence, where the sound of the steel forks scraping against the steel plate was clearly distinct. I hated the awkward pauses between our conversations. They conveyed nothing but a sense of discomfort. The sudden silence that erupted out of nowhere was always disconcerting. It was scary. It was a wakeup call for me to say something. I was a lot happier playing the attentive listener. But silence was deafening. I could hear me arguing with myself on what to say next. Often, I would manage to give a weak, sheepish smile. This would provide me some temporary relief. I loathed confronting this awkward silence. This was probably why we discussed meaningless things that neither of us really cared about – to fill those minutes of lull and calm.

My mind wandered as I thought about our present meeting and the topics and strategies I had in mind to evade the silence. I had painstakingly made a mental list of the things that I could talk about. Anything under the sun would serve as raw material for me. Leaning back on the bench, I went through the list in my head to pick a suitable topic to start with. I could start with a routine update on the day’s happenings or I could talk about the new movie that I had watched recently. As I turned towards him, I saw that he was distracted. His tiny, curious eyes were looking up in the sky. I looked in the same direction to find him gazing at the sunset. I’m not really a person who appreciates nature but today was different. It seemed as though nature had dipped her fingers in a palette and had painted streaks of orange and yellow across a blue canvas. Satisfied with her modern art, she probably plucked some stars from the galaxy and placed them here and there, just to please the beholder. She sent a cool breeze that ruffled my hair and chilled my spine. The flexible bamboo trees erupted in an elegant dance, swaying from side to side. Everything seemed so serene, so beautiful.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed another pair of eyes looking intently at the swaying tree. Our eyes met for a split second. Strangely, neither of us looked away. I looked into his eyes intently, realizing that two whole minutes had passed by since I had arrived and neither of us had spoken a word. We had spent two whole minutes in silence. We had spent two whole minutes without having the need to indulge in petty conversations. These were the most meaningful two minutes that we had spent together since we had met. And this was the only time that we hadn’t uttered a word but felt like we had had the best conversation of our lives.

I could see his eyes peering at mine, conveying the same emotion. I curled my lips into a big, broad smile and continued looking into his eyes.

This time, the silence wasn’t awkward.

Nandini Rajagopalan is a quintessential software developer who is looking to showcase her creativity. She has an opinion about everything under the sun and is also brave enough to express them. Her interests vary from cuddling cute bunnies to watching gory Tarantino flicks. Food is her second love, only after literature. She worships Oscar Wilde and his cynicism.

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