Silence please

I love silence.
It helps me not think.
The only thing I like more than silence is someone talking sense – but since this is very rare I make do with silence most of the time.

Silence is almost always broken by a fool.
Only fools do not grasp the beauty of silence.
The fools (all of them) are under a common misconception that their ignorant gibberish is more significant than silence.
I do agree – at times listening to this ignorant gibberish does help boost one’s confidence; but more often than not, it irritates the life out of the listener.

When I was sixteen I decided to pursue my further education in my motherland.
I lived in a hostel run by one of the most popular entrance coaching centres here.
For those of you who do not know what ‘the entrance’ refers to, it is a set of exams that apparently decide your future.
Students take, end and live lives for the sole purpose of faring well in these ‘entrance exams’.
It is also referred to as the single most important test any student interested in pursuing a professional course has to undertake.
I think it is pure bullshit.

For the two years I lived in that hostel I believed all the bullshit mentioned above.
I tried to survive with six hours of sleep.
I tried to survive not talking to a single soul for more than twelve hours a day.
I tried to survive sitting in front of books for more than twelve hours a day.
I tried to survive the pin drop silence.
And now here I am – doing what I dreamt of doing and I wonder if it was worth believing all that bullshit.
But I learnt my lessons and I learnt them well.

These are the lessons silence taught me:
1) Girls tend to obey rules without voicing their opinions; boys do so after mumbling their opinions under their breath.
I did not belong to either category.

2) Some people can sit in front of their books and actually study for more than twelve hours a day; others can fake it.
I did not belong to either category.

3) There are people who can sit mum for more than six hours; others always make sure they never get caught talking.
I did not belong to either category.

4) What I have to voice is never insignificant. I always have a point. The authorities never seem to get my point.
It is pointless to try and make them get the point.

5) Boys at the age of sixteen tend to pursue activities classified under mischief, if they do not the girls do. Since both seemed uninterested I was undertook burden of the activities.
You are rarely appreciated for carrying out self assigned duties.

6) No matter what I have an innate attraction to trouble.
No matter what I always get caught.
No matter what the others involved tend to get away with it.

7) It is embarrassing, even for me, to get scolded in a language I find difficult to understand at seven in the morning in front of about two hundred peers and fifty adults.

8) When being scolded always maintain utmost silence – Even if you do not understand what the wonderful adjectives and nouns used to describe you mean.

9) Tears are the only way to shorten the misery of getting scolded at. I cannot cry when I want to – even if I pinch myself blue and black.

10) Life at home may seem boring at sixteen; one might feel the want of adventure. The adventure I undertook taught me more than I expected.
It is horrible to open your eyes to reality what is worse is having them opened for you against your will.

I love silence.
It reminds me of those days.
It helps me not think.
It makes me smile at the lessons learnt the hard way.

So don’t spoil it – shut up.