I have two thoughts cozily adjusting themselves in the couch of my imagination as I write this: pet love, and deaf people. I shall risk being got wrong, but let me narrate a movie scene I don’t forget. Before that, let me also express how much I’m struggling with words tonight; a fact on top of which I’m feeling sad.
The scene was from a somewhat dark comedy in which two thieves attempted to corner a mute candy girl in a side street of one squalid neighborhood. The two burglars were in fact in terrible need of the money; one of them is your typical gentle heart, crushed by need, the other a harebrained fatty. Upon having noticed them approach, the girl unearthed a huge lollipop and presented it to the sweetheart, the handsomer of the two villains, and, believe it or not, the movie star.
The guy was spellbound. As it turns out, this deaf girl had once been the victim of an act of thuggery in her childhood by a bunch of urchins who were after her candy; in a freak of destiny, our hero, a child himself then, happened to be passing by while being immersed in a book about martial arts, owning to which he was possessed by an excess of courage, urging him to go rescue the little misfit. Of course, his butt was severely kicked, and to perfect his humiliation, most of the gang unzipped their pants and pissed all over him.
Cynicism being borne now by his disappointment, he was thinking about how futile art is, when confounded by violence. The girl, after having been charmed by his act of chivalry, decided to gift him with her candy: her lollipop. In his wild fit of ire, he jerked it with the back of his hand too hard it fell to the ground in pieces, breaking the girl’s chest with it.
And now, after all those years, upon being subjected to another act of violence, the girl remembered him, and that lollipop happened to be the very one in their childhood story; except it was now put together with some sort of sugary glue, like her heart too, I suppose. To the spectator’s great dismay, the guy’s pride thwarted his kindness, and he again fixated his anger on the poor lollipop, dismantling it into the pieces it once was. Seeing this, the girl succumbed her tears to her cheeks, pouring them into the abyss of his heartache’s well.
I kind of cried during this. The scene had absolutely no words. Here we have a girl, an emblem of delicacy, crushed twice by a man whom she never had it in her to denounce. And we have a frustrated man, whose pride, like all stupid men, made him break the glass that’s a lass’s soul, twice! Their eye contact was, despite lack of speech, quite deafening. She gestured some signs to him; to remind him of their story; he already knew, but he pretended to be the callous he never was, for the sake of an occupation he never wanted.
The girl fixed her lollipop again, and glued her heart fain. No matter how uncouth her loved one was, she deep inside knew that it was only a shell over a soft pillow of a home. She’s seen it once and held on to it with the grip of her existence. She just had to wait, she thought. He will return.
Towards the end of the movie, he did.
Since that night and I have this belief that I could fall in love with any deaf girl. Not because I’ll patronize her disability, but because her wordlessness would decisively dwarf any attempt on my side at expressing how I feel.
And every time I feel wordless, like tonight, I remember the idea of her.
And be sad at words.