It's only words...

Words...

oh those treacherous words!

They just come and go...
to torture me!

Words. They trouble me. They torment me. They taunt me. They tease me. They frustrate me. They fail me. They ruin me. And they run away from me, laughing mercilessly.

Look at them agonizing words! Now they want to tumble out, roll across, run hither thither. Lots of them. Floating around in circles... just above my head. Inside my head sometimes. And sometimes inside out. Sometimes upside down. Sometimes hanging in the air. Just! Sometimes in plain view. Sometimes hiding. Playing hide-and-seek with my feelings. And at times, refusing to come onto my lips to give shape and meaning to my thoughts.

Just plain words. Trying to manipulate my head, my emotions, my feelings. Trying to tell me stories. Which I don't want to know or hear. Prying isn't good, I was told. Voyeurism is bad, they told me. But I still hear those words - loud and clear. Conversation(s) in the vehicles, inside homes, in front of houses, out in the open. Stories being told in excited, high-pitched voices. Gossip being shared in low, secretive tones.

Words. They just seem to stare at me from every corner. Wall posters looking me in the eye. Billboards looking down upon me from great distance, and greater height(s). Newspapers hung in stalls, strewn across the table in the reception areas of plush glass-and-steel buildings. Breaking News scrolls on 24X7 news channels. Blogs glaring at me, challenging me and my authority.

Words, and words everywhere. Begging me to read, comprehend, sympathize, empathize, re-tell. Forcing me to accept them, take them into me, shape them up. And tell the story. Their story. My story. Our story. Some story. Any story. Just tell it all... say it aloud... say it one more time.

But how do I choose my words? Carefully, of course! But there are several thousands of them - revolving around me, mocking at me, making faces. Testing my patience. And questioning my command over them. Now, how do I use them to talk about things I want to talk about? About the boy and the girl kissing under the dark canopy of the cloudy sky? On the beach. In the sand. About their desire to make love, merge their bodies, and their souls, into one. Or about mushy love stories that just began and promises just being made. Or promises being broken elsewhere, breaking hearts along the way.

How can I use words, the right ones, to show the agony of the daughter-in-law being dragged by the hair on to the streets? And rip apart the in-laws hurling choicest abuses at the hapless bahu. Is there a better way, really, of using words? Besides talking about couples in love... And about those that are drifting apart. About the husband cheating on his wife. And the wife two-timing her husband. Or the boss seducing the employee, and vice-versa. About the woman pleading with her man to not desert her. Or the man beseeching the woman to understand, and let go!

Nah! I don't want to talk about any of this. These stories do interest me but don't satisfy me well enough. So I'd rather talk about children, their faces a mirror of innocence. Their voices full of exciting, innocent stories. Their faces masking the mischief in their eyes. Their playful faces filling my mind, my soul, my life.

Yes, I want to use all the words in the world (my world) to tell interesting tales about, and for, children - their thoughts pure, their hearts clean, their love unconditional, their expressions cute. That's what I want to use words for. Use these very tender and loving words that I stealthily seduced into my mind (and with those sweet words inviting me back into their amazing world)...

It is best to be on a safer turf. To be able to preach still. Standing on a higher moral ground. To succeed in making a charade. Of being holier than thou! To not let them words slip out of me, take over me, betray me and spill the darkest secrets, desires and fantasies from the deepest core of my heart.

So innocent children it is! That's the tale I want to talk about. Or, I'd rather not talk at all...