There was once a student. Not of a particular subject but let us say of life in general. This being a short story, age and location of characters is of no consequence.
The student liked listening to a newsreader on the radio. Everyday the voice of the newsreader would strike out across time and space and reach the student through the radio. The student in turn would, like one of the 'faithful' always take out time to listen. To make out the subtle nuances in the newsreaders voice. Trying to pick-out signs of emotion, stress, happiness and anger in the carefully controlled tones of the newsreader. The voice streaming through the speaker was all that the student had to discover the person behind it.
They couldn't meet. They wouldn't meet. Or would they? The student did not care. As long as the voice came through every night the student would know that the newsreader was alive and doing well. The student cared for nothing except the well being and the happiness of the person behind the voice. The one voice which called out across the night. Never failing. Always faithful.
One day the student came to know that the radio station the newsreader worked in was closing down due to financial problems. It would cease broadcasting from midnight of the 19th of February said the news.
The voice of the newsreader, pronouncing its own fate, did not betray the slightest hint of emotion to the untrained ear. But the student knew better. The student could feel the pain and the sense of loss right through the words. The tone of fear is quite clear and distinct to the trained ear.
The student liked listening to a newsreader on the radio. Everyday the voice of the newsreader would strike out across time and space and reach the student through the radio. The student in turn would, like one of the 'faithful' always take out time to listen. To make out the subtle nuances in the newsreaders voice. Trying to pick-out signs of emotion, stress, happiness and anger in the carefully controlled tones of the newsreader. The voice streaming through the speaker was all that the student had to discover the person behind it.
They couldn't meet. They wouldn't meet. Or would they? The student did not care. As long as the voice came through every night the student would know that the newsreader was alive and doing well. The student cared for nothing except the well being and the happiness of the person behind the voice. The one voice which called out across the night. Never failing. Always faithful.
One day the student came to know that the radio station the newsreader worked in was closing down due to financial problems. It would cease broadcasting from midnight of the 19th of February said the news.
The voice of the newsreader, pronouncing its own fate, did not betray the slightest hint of emotion to the untrained ear. But the student knew better. The student could feel the pain and the sense of loss right through the words. The tone of fear is quite clear and distinct to the trained ear.
It was a time of mourning for the student. All was lost. Hope was not easy to come by. The future looked bleak and black. Then one day the student realised that the newsreader would definitely get a job in some other radio station. The newsreader would be back! Maybe this time not reading out the news but giving the weather or the round-up of the newspaper headlines or the sports update! Anxiously the student scanned radio channels for few weeks. Often listening to two or three stations at once. Listening for that familiar voice.
But the newsreader's voice did not appear on any of the local radio stations. This broke the student. The student went into a fit of anger. Cursing everything around. Cursing the newsreader for creating the dependency and then taking away the support. Blind rage coloured with frustration surged through the student. It burned through the body and the brain like a fire through dry wood. The student couldn't eat or sleep. Sometimes the student couldn't even breath.
Weeks turned into months and the student regained some sort of peace. The fire of anger had eaten all there was to eat and then died down. Then one day as the student was walking down the street there came a familiar voice. The voice was bit different but the student knew it was the newsreader! It had to be. Wild desperation seized both the mind and the soul of the student as the search for the source of the voice began. The newsreader had to be found!
The student looked around trying to locate the source and realised that the voice was coming from one of the houses along the street. Once that was known the house itself was easy to locate.
The student stood at the door of the house. Now confused what to do! You can't just knock on the door of a strange house and ask who the voice belongs to. Before the student could decide how to proceed the voice stopped. Steps were heard approaching the door and the door flew open in the face of the student surprising both the person opening the door and the person standing outside it.
As the student tried to piece together an explanation for standing outside the door like this, the person who had opened the door, recovered and asked in an even voice: 'Can I help you?'. Everything froze around the student as the newsreader spoke again, this time asking with a faint note of annoyance: 'Can I help you? Are you lost?'
The student could just reply 'You are the newsreader!'. The face of the newsreader clouded over with suspicion and the door started closing. The student cried 'Wait! 8th of July!'. The suspicion on the newsreaders faced changed into confusion and then curiosity. The door stopped closing but did not start opening again.
The student knew, the next words had to be the RIGHT WORDS at the RIGHT TIME. Nothing less would do. 'What happened on the 8th of July last year?'. Now the newsreader's face registered shock. The door started closing again. 'Wait!' cried the student as the door slammed shut. Minutes passed as the shock of the meeting passed through the body of the student. Then the door opened again. This time the newsreader looked a lot more relaxed. The voice spoke once again to the student. It asked: 'Where did you get that date from?'. The student replied with the truth: 'Your voice had a raw edge to it, the only time it had such a painful note in it, in the two years I have been listening to your broadcast'.
'You got that from my voice?' asked the newsreader now intrigued.
'I feel the connection between us, sometimes words are just what we have, one has to make do with them' replied the student, now both calm and excited, the heart hammering away.
'That was the day....' the newsreader began and then stopped. Surprised with the response. Then began again: 'Why am I telling you this!'.
'I prayed to God for your happiness every time I heard the sadness in your voice' said the student in reply. Suddenly the student felt drained. The strain of past few months and of the sudden meeting came crashing down. Facing the newsreader felt like facing the Sun in a desert. Darkness settled around.
As the student's heart froze in its cage, words came out of the half closed mouth: 'Why do you cry?'
The newsreader replied 'Why do you study my pain?'
The student answered 'I never got used to the bland taste of happiness, pain has so many different flavours'
But the newsreader's voice did not appear on any of the local radio stations. This broke the student. The student went into a fit of anger. Cursing everything around. Cursing the newsreader for creating the dependency and then taking away the support. Blind rage coloured with frustration surged through the student. It burned through the body and the brain like a fire through dry wood. The student couldn't eat or sleep. Sometimes the student couldn't even breath.
Weeks turned into months and the student regained some sort of peace. The fire of anger had eaten all there was to eat and then died down. Then one day as the student was walking down the street there came a familiar voice. The voice was bit different but the student knew it was the newsreader! It had to be. Wild desperation seized both the mind and the soul of the student as the search for the source of the voice began. The newsreader had to be found!
The student looked around trying to locate the source and realised that the voice was coming from one of the houses along the street. Once that was known the house itself was easy to locate.
The student stood at the door of the house. Now confused what to do! You can't just knock on the door of a strange house and ask who the voice belongs to. Before the student could decide how to proceed the voice stopped. Steps were heard approaching the door and the door flew open in the face of the student surprising both the person opening the door and the person standing outside it.
As the student tried to piece together an explanation for standing outside the door like this, the person who had opened the door, recovered and asked in an even voice: 'Can I help you?'. Everything froze around the student as the newsreader spoke again, this time asking with a faint note of annoyance: 'Can I help you? Are you lost?'
The student could just reply 'You are the newsreader!'. The face of the newsreader clouded over with suspicion and the door started closing. The student cried 'Wait! 8th of July!'. The suspicion on the newsreaders faced changed into confusion and then curiosity. The door stopped closing but did not start opening again.
The student knew, the next words had to be the RIGHT WORDS at the RIGHT TIME. Nothing less would do. 'What happened on the 8th of July last year?'. Now the newsreader's face registered shock. The door started closing again. 'Wait!' cried the student as the door slammed shut. Minutes passed as the shock of the meeting passed through the body of the student. Then the door opened again. This time the newsreader looked a lot more relaxed. The voice spoke once again to the student. It asked: 'Where did you get that date from?'. The student replied with the truth: 'Your voice had a raw edge to it, the only time it had such a painful note in it, in the two years I have been listening to your broadcast'.
'You got that from my voice?' asked the newsreader now intrigued.
'I feel the connection between us, sometimes words are just what we have, one has to make do with them' replied the student, now both calm and excited, the heart hammering away.
'That was the day....' the newsreader began and then stopped. Surprised with the response. Then began again: 'Why am I telling you this!'.
'I prayed to God for your happiness every time I heard the sadness in your voice' said the student in reply. Suddenly the student felt drained. The strain of past few months and of the sudden meeting came crashing down. Facing the newsreader felt like facing the Sun in a desert. Darkness settled around.
As the student's heart froze in its cage, words came out of the half closed mouth: 'Why do you cry?'
The newsreader replied 'Why do you study my pain?'
The student answered 'I never got used to the bland taste of happiness, pain has so many different flavours'
No comments:
Post a Comment