Unintentional Transmission
It’s quieter when the spaces are predetermined.
Exact and electronic. Mechanical, even.
Peaceful, having been broken in perfect symmetry.
A beat
and
a
beep
and
repeat.
Offbeat,
an answer.
The roaring, rambunctious response;
reeling from reality;
Beyond-bound.
Bustling with the chaos of a life being lived in real time
Echoed elements of moments’ past;
Continuing-coalescing,
into the cacophony of the
instant-immediate.
The too much being said with no intent to inform
The too much being heard with no intent to have known.
Distant speech and dissolved sounds
Disappearing into
Boisterous bursts of
Busy-busy-busy-BUSY
and it’s implied and obvious and muttered and screamed,
all at once.
Varied voices,
of a crowd unaware,
of its one-person audience.
The listener.
The petitioner.
Pleading nothing unsaid by the eyes.
Evocative, emphatic, unseen.
Entreating to be excused for the uninvited intrusion,
Sensing the significance of the surfeited scene,
Fulfilled, intact and overindulged.
Only dislodged for the beat in which,
the voices vanish.
Replaced by a requiem for a lonely conversation
that strained, having conveyed,
everything that ought never to have been.
Malaika is both in awe of and under the influence of words. She often finds that art and poetry compete for her attention and interest, and has decided that she cannot decide between the two.
Ananya is a design student and dog lover. When she's not busy drawing odd faces, she loves munching on some grape-flavoured Tang while keeping her stationery intact. She has a weakness for fine-nibbed black pens and
handmade books.
