Nilima's room is always tidy. The immaculate white bedspread, a bunch of tuberoses on the table, and a cactus placed by the window—all seem to symbolize a deep peace. But beneath this silence, a storm often brews inside Nilima. A storm that cannot be spoken of, yet cannot be endured either.
That day, after returning from the office, Nilima felt as if her heart had turned to stone. The long-accumulated monotony, loneliness, and unfulfilled desires seemed to be squeezing her throat today. She wanted to scream and shake the sky, but her sick mother was sleeping in the next room. The sound of crying in this peaceful home would only bring a wave of anxiety.
Nilima went to the bathroom and shut the door. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at her pale face. She pressed her hands against her face. Then, with all her strength, she let out a scream from the depths of her existence. But no sound of that scream emerged outside. Her body trembled, the veins in her neck swelled, and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
She seemed to pour out all her inner turmoil through that silent scream. This was her "quiet scream."
After a while, she washed her face and stepped out. In the mirror, she saw that calm Nilima again. But now the stone in her heart felt a bit lighter. She knew that to live in this world, sometimes one has to scream silently like this—so that the peace around is maintained, yet there is a little room for one's own breath.
Nilima stood by the window. Outside, a light rain had started. She let out a deep sigh and thought to herself, "Not all screams need to be heard by ears; some screams can only be felt by the heart."