A Tearful Silence
By Akshat Pathak
Vladimir walked down the sidewalk. His heart, shattered within, pounded aloud. Fog and mist made him gloomy. Grim thoughts clouded his mind. He drew a lungful of air and looked around the street.
Kids played football at a distance. They were fortunate, he thought, not to face the horrors of war. Their mothers, overwhelmed with uncertainty, sat next to them in the park. Their presence was a spectacle of prolonged grief as they discussed the war.
“Is anyone aware of the situation at the front? Olga, did you read the newspaper?” He heard the blonde woman question.
“It’s the same… nothing has changed. Recently, I heard that they are retreating.”
Their questions unsettled him. He couldn’t tell them the truth. Half of their loved ones were already dead. He couldn’t tell them the truth.
Vladimir walked away. He crossed the street and arrived home late at night. The firepit burned, and the living room glowed with light.
Vera, his mother, sat in a corner. She looked at him when he stepped inside. Her face appeared pale and exhausted.
“Where were you, Vladimir?” She asked and set the firewood in the pit.
“I was walking outside.”
He answered and sat down in the chair. His eyes were filled with remorse. He struggled to hide his pain from her.
“Mother.” He sighed. “Do you like… what’s happening right now?”
“We have talked about this several times, Vladimir.”
“Yes, but I still don’t have my answer. You never gave one.”
“Vladimir, why don’t you understand? I have told you before… it’s not worth it.”
“No, Mother, you haven’t told me what I wish to hear. It’s troubling me inside, the suffering behind all of this, every day. Is it fair what’s happening?”
Vladimir asked for an answer, but Vera remained quiet. Her eyes followed the embers as they perished in the pit.
Her throat went dry. Memories unsettled her. Vladimir noticed her grow thin. Her silence grieved him.
“Mother, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He sat beside her and confessed.
Vera didn’t respond. She looked at his face with remorse and sighed.
“Some things are inevitable… We can’t stop them from happening. Fate drives more lives than actions do, Vladimir.” She said, and a tearful silence ensued.
“Fate? What fate are you talking about? People are dying for nothing, being killed for nothing, Mother.” Vladimir paused. A teardrop slid down his face. “How cruel can we become?”
“It is a war, Vladimir… What else can we expect?”
Vera’s answer disturbed him. He remained quiet and looked through the window. Darkness clouded the sky outside.
“Mother?” He spoke up again. Vera didn’t reply. Her eyes were wet with tears. She couldn’t face him anymore.
“Vladimir, you should sleep. You need rest.”
She said and wiped her tears. Vladimir looked at her. Firelight reflected in her eyes and made them look red. Her face remained pale. She was exhausted, he thought.
“I’m sorry. Good night, Mother.”
He whispered and glanced at the porous walls outside. They were going to break down and die, he thought, with a faint smile.
“Vladimir.” Vera interrupted him when he was about to step outside. “The world’s a cruel place. If you go against the tide, you would not survive.”
“It is… what it is, Vladimir.”
Bio: Akshat Pathak is an Indian writer and poet with a focus on psychological and literary fiction. His writing explores emotional interiority and themes of love, loss, death, and melancholy. He is currently pursuing a BA in English Literature.
Author’s notes:
Dear reader,
Inspired by real-world catastrophic events, my story ‘A Tearful Silence’ depicts the horrors and questions the righteousness of war. The narrative unfolds as a conversation between a young man and his mother, and explores their everlasting moral dilemma.
I have put in considerable effort crafting this tragic tale. I hope you will connect with it.
