THE FAMILY PORTRAIT THAT SPOKE IN SILENCES

I am a rectangle of canvas, a tapestry woven from oil paint and unspoken truths. They call me a family portrait, but I am also a silent stage where a story unfolds, told not in words but in glances and empty spaces. I am the family portrait that speaks in silence.

The artist, a man with a keen eye for human nature, arranged us with care. The father stood tall and proud, his hands clasped behind his back, a solid pillar of authority. The mother sat beside him, her sari a vibrant splash of color, radiating quiet warmth from her serene face. Their two children stood on either side, a boy with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and a girl with a shy, knowing smile. The composition was perfect, a picture of unblemished happiness.

But the painter captured more than just our faces; he captured our silences. Look closely at the father’s hands, tightly clasped behind his back. The artist saw not a man at ease but a man holding back many frustrations, his anger a quiet, unyielding presence. Look at the mother's calm face. The painter saw the worry lines around her eyes, a silent record of a life spent trying to hold a family together. Her gentle smile was a shield, a silent apology for the storms that raged beneath the surface.

The children also have their own silences. The boy's mischievous eyes do not signal a happy childhood but a quiet rebellion, a constant, unspoken war against his father's rules. The girl's shy smile does not indicate contentment but reflects her watchful nature, a silent observer of a family she can never quite understand. And notice the empty space between them, a small, perfect void where a third child, a ghost, should have been. The artist, in his wisdom, left it empty, a silent tribute to a life that never was, a grief too painful for words.

The canvas holds a thousand untold stories—the arguments that were never resolved, the dreams that were never voiced, the love that was never fully expressed. We are a family portrait, a beautiful lie that hangs on a wall. We speak in smiles that don’t reach our eyes, in hands that are held back, and in empty spaces that cry out with loss. We are the family portrait that speaks in silence, and if you look closely, you can hear our story.