The deafening sound of silence

 THE DEAFENING SOUND OF SILENCE 

From the moment we are born, we are surrounded by noise. A baby’s first cry is met with soothing voices, lullabies, and the constant hum of life. As we grow, noise becomes second nature—crying, screaming, chatter, music, honking, ringing phones, and the endless buzz of modern life. Silence, by contrast, is rare and often unsettling.

I remember growing up in the railway quarters in Allahabad, where the sound of trains hooting often woke me in the morning. Even at night, I would hear them rumbling past, their distant whistles piercing the quiet, setting off a train of thought that sometimes kept me awake. Thinking back now, that background noise was so familiar that its absence would have been unnerving. Perhaps that’s why people struggle with silence, we are conditioned to expect sound.

You often hear people say, “Why is everyone so quiet? Liven up, guys!” Silence, for many, is awkward. In meetings, the loud and assertive ones often dominate, making sure they are heard, while the quieter ones are overlooked. Noise is frequently mistaken for intelligence and authority, though true wisdom often resides in silence.

But why do we avoid silence? For many, it forces introspection, bringing up thoughts and emotions they might prefer to avoid. Silence can feel isolating, making people uncomfortable with their own company. In social settings, it is often misunderstood as disinterest or boredom, leading to the fear of being judged negatively. People equate noise with engagement, mistaking constant conversation for connection.

Yet, silence has its own presence. I think of cloistered nuns who take vows of silence, seeking peace in quiet contemplation. I remember detention classes in school, where pupils were sternly told to BE SILENT, as if silence itself was a punishment. The ominous silence at funerals, broken only by the sound of sobs, carries its own weight of emotion. And then, there is the beautiful silence one encounters in an empty church or chapel—where the stillness is almost sacred, untouched by the outside world.

As I have aged, I have come to appreciate silence more. Mornings have become special—those first quiet moments with a cup of tea, listening to the world stir gently, rather than rushing to fill the void. Silence has given me time to reflect, to appreciate stillness, and to understand that not every moment needs to be drowned in sound.

On a humorous note, people fear silence so much that they even talk in their sleep! Studies show that about 5% of adults regularly do. And when awake, they hoot horns unnecessarily, raise their voices when a simple word would suffice, and ring doorbells longer than needed. The global decibel level is ever on the rise, making silence an endangered experience.

Maybe it’s time to pause, listen, and embrace the quiet—not just around us, but within us too.