It takes two to start a conversation. One, in a sudden fit of garrulity airs his views out to the world, hoping a few of them might drift away in the wind and get caught into the ruffles of the mind of another. Many of the words would die a sudden death. Drop from the air to the heartless earth of uninterested listeners. There would be a few words of promise though, holding out for the wind to get carried away, and spring forth a chain of sentences, pulling together, and hoping to be completed by another. But, yes, it takes two to start a conversation.

The other, with words caught on to her hair, her hand, her mind and her life, would carefully pluck them out, sent from a distance of a room filled with a murmur of listeners; and scrutinise them. Well, surely the wind carried these words from a place afar. She would look around for the caster of this strange ship of sentences. Words would tumble out, again, from the original sailor, and this time she would look up to see those words looming large over the head of a man. Varied sentences with different colours of moods, floating in the air, adrift in the strange loneliness of an incomplete sentence.

A monologue perhaps, is but just a whisper into the empty air, rich in content but void in comprehension of another soul. It’s an unfulfilled life of a conversation, cast out to the world with no takers. But these words sent out today by the man were not to be despaired. She would take these words and build a sentence. Words that had rusted and corroded inside her, through an air moist with dry, unintelligent banter, would rise up in her. They would rebel and float out of her, till they reached their destination. Because after all, it does take two start a conversation.

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