From @gauravjagwani: Music is the language of hearts. There was a blind pianist from Paris. He was performing his first ever concert in front of close to three-thousand people. It was the grandest event. He was smiling, as for once he felt part of a community. The audience was all 'ears'. He died a happy man.
From @anushreekejriwa: Communicating through the language of action was the best she knew. Confluence of conspicuous and inconspicuous thoughts led to concrete actions which could bring about a change. Expecting the same from others she continued with her efforts and this was the point where she committed the mistake. Expectations ruined her thoughts and she succumbed.
From @abhiandnow: His was the most charming smile she had ever seen; she was the girl of his dreams. He was just an Indian villager; she was an exchange student from United Kingdom. As the train chugged along the barren landscape of Rajasthan, the stream of enchanting moonlight rinsed away the darkness spread by the language barrier.
From @LadyClonidine: There they were, jeering, their mocking faces, sneering smiles. Why? Why her? Just because she couldn’t speak their language well? She took to stage, singing defiantly in her mother tongue. They blurred to a colourful mass. Her piercing voice, beautiful. Their mouths held slack, wide-eyed, stunned as her voice caressed them. Sometimes language doesn’t matter.
From @sahilk: In my country, words don’t constitute the language between opposite sexes. Neither does sign language work. Some believe it’s their moral responsibility for the society’s upholding and are always on the lookout for a muscle twitch as well. But we manage to make do. Guess when it comes to eye reading techniques, we’re world champions.
From @IndianIdle: I always saw her sitting to the table across me. We never talked, but still we told many things to each other. Sometimes a stare, a look, a smile. And one day I saw pain in her eyes. I went to her, nervously. She handed me a paper. "I wish I could talk to you".
From @captain_speakin: She walked alone to the place that gave her peace. This was the only corner in the loud city that fell silent after midnight. She sat there getting drenched in the rain, talking her heart out to her best friend the sea, not a word spoken. The language of silence was magical.
From @vivekisms: They started like any other couple. Phone calls. Messages. Love Poems and Letters. Nothing could go wrong. The perfect world had been created. It seemed impenetrable – like the rest of the world did not matter. The two were enough for each other and then just like that, language betrayed them.
From @anoddyellow: They loved each other and understood each other but no one else got it. It was the silences that they cherished because the words made no sense. They had hand gestures and expressions as codes. They lived enveloped in their very own language of silence.
From @thebigdowg: It was an awkward wedding. He was black; she was from China. He owned a shack; she was a nurse. He towered well above 6 feet; she was barely over 5. He spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent; she only knew Cantonese. “How do they communicate?” I wondered. “Love, my child, love.” Said the priest.
From @ayechikne: She dealt with the Presidents and Prime Ministers. She wore suits and held her head high. Across the room she saw him. He saw her. Their eyes met. He smiled. She tried. She couldn’t smile. She spoke languages of the world but couldn’t speak the language of love.
From @theslumdawg: As a Marathi medium student, English was a tough language for me to understand. I used to watch (WWF) with a dictionary in my hand to understand words and their meanings. Today, thanks to twitter, I'm able to Write these #55WordStories. I'm still learning and I hope you will help me learn more.
From @chhotarecharge: I checked my watch for the 20th time in the past 20 minutes. Awkward glances and nervous smiles was all the interaction we had. *Tring-Tring* Neha calling! I’ll answer it; I thought…He won’t even understand. “Youpu bipitch! Thipis gupuy ipis sopo dupumb! Ipi wipill dipie opof boporedopom!”“Shona….He understands the P-language” WHOOOOPS!
From @Sharanya_s: A shrug, a raised eyebrow or two, the wiggling of ears, a nod, the twiddling of thumbs, the crossing of fingers, the restless tapping of the right foot; these were all part of his infinite vocabulary. His tongue moved but no one heard a single sound. He continued the dialogue in his head. A smile.
From @breezybeer: That day my sister's baby was crying. Everyone tried making him quiet but he didn't. We were unable to understand as he couldn't speak. Just then, di came. She gave him his favorite teddy and he stopped crying. I guess that's the language of love that only a mother can understand.
From @nimue_: She wanted to be a writer. He, like most lovers, kept appreciating her, without understanding her words. She grew silent with every line she wrote. He grew impatient with growing pile of words. Form of language became "the other guy" between them. She still chose silence. He left her without another word.
From @mental_Aunty: He was 10 when he 1st saw 'Ek Duje Ke Liye'. He decided then itself that he would learn every single Indian language. She was his next door neighbour, his best friend. But for her he was more than that. She was 'Friend-Zoned', waiting for his dream-girl; he still calls himself #ForeverAlone.
From @designerfoo: He Said "Woman, Know your place! Go to the Damn Kitchen and make me some dinner. While you are it, get ready for some desert too!” She said "Mind your language!” He Said, "Darling, it's only English... well, almost"; She Said, "amor doleo, vulputate non loquor... well, almost"; He Said, "loquor? You mean liquor? Right??"
From @dinkypinkybrain: Knowing in silence, and being known. Nothingness pervaded. Nothingness fathered sound. Ah. Uu. Mm. Primordial, harmonious, understood. Understanding grew roots in bare earth. A word blossomed. Words fell away from the tree of understanding and clattered and clanged in sentences. Sentences stretched into prose. Then they paused, to speak a language cloaked in silence.
From @dakumangalsing: She thought of the color red and a drop of sweat trickled down her white femoral region. She was scared of being with a stranger. This is unusual for she was a prostitute. Never ever such a creepy thought crossed her mind, her ruffles rose. She despises red language sex.
From @neatbee: Finally, after the numerous hesitant glances at each other, he shamelessly, obliteratingly, held her stare; a stare whose meaning was substantiated in the sanctum of the parking lot within the drama of horns and headlights converging. Not a single word was exchanged. The silence was a triumph and song in the language of no words.
From @riddhiaswani: He scanned the submission, bewilderment stamping his face. Through the negligently draped glasses he glared at her. Nervous and excited, her pigtails bounced in rhythm as she shifted from one foot to another. 'What is this?’ 'My essay submission'. 'I don't understand.' 'It’s in 'Na'vi'. His face flamed in anger. "'Na'vi' isn’t a real language."
From @Eternalscrewup: He saw her across the market, his throat dried up. He felt aphonic, for she had stormed out on him five years ago. He had cursed her during a fight. There was profanity, more than she could ever handle. They were perfect for each other but for his words. He again wished he was born voiceless.
From @medusaindespair: Is he looking at me? She thought. No he isn't. She stirred her drink. What is this happening to me? She wondered. She looked at him again. He was looking at her from across the table. He curled his fingers around her hand. She smiled. If only I could see you. She said. If only.
From @KyaHaiBey: They spoke to each other every day, sometimes by sending tea and sometimes by mere eye contact. They shared stealthy smiles and hellos; in a language we call silence. They had the same duty and worked at the same time. They even looked alike. Only difference, one worked for Indian Army and the other for Pakistan.
From @panku_: She looked lost & lonely on the busy shopping lanes of linking road. Failed attempts to locate a place were visible on her face. People were unable to understand her Spanish accent. He came to her rescue and got her phone number in return. Two years later they ended up marrying in a church.
From @thelosthippie: “Bonjour!” he said. “Hello,” I murmured. He spoke, I heard gibberish. We walked, we smiled. Gasped at the circus, marveled at the museum. Comfortable silences on the boat ride back. Stared at the sunset, quivered with the wind. We cooked, we ate. Danced after dinner. We giggled, we laughed. We didn’t need a common language.
From @mizarcle: Not a word was spoken in the entire 2 hours that we sat across each other. You know how Indian weddings are. A lot of people around. I think it was her eyes that did all the speaking. She finally gathered courage and came toward me and I saw her lips move. I was deaf.
From @hersheyka: She hated working in Chennai – the state where the national language is irrelevant. It felt like living in a conspiratory alien world. They would have entire annoying conversations in fluid Tamil, even obviously mentioning her, completely oblivious to her presence. She just didn’t fit; until she authored “Learn Tamil in 15 days”.
From @misschicck: She walked in the rains and smiled at strangers. She promised herself to do something for them. She knew she needed more than a translator for help. The language barrier would be crossed only if her art could speak for itself. Yes the universal language created its own silent words in the worldly noise.
From @DhinchakChokri: He heard gurgling. That was his cue. He walked over and looked down. His creation, waiting anxiously, stared back at him. He took her in his arms and they walked a daily path to his least favorite destination. As he watched the flame come to a boil, he heard her for the first time. "Daa-Daa!"
From @writingtom: When John was at 10, his parents sold him to a rich couple. Now, at 28, he is a widower struggling to make his living. He receives a letter from his real father, who is on death row, whose last wish is to meet his son. The father accepts death, in misery.
From @brainyshady: "A young dilapidated lady lying on the road, scourged by wounds called out to him, a man with cozy leather overcoat. He pretended, he didn't see her. Touched by guilt, he turned and walked upto her. Their eyes met, he touched her wounds. Russian may be Greek to him, he spoke the language of love."
From Proteem Bhaduri: He was born with a very unique gift. He had the innate ability to understand and interpret any language spoken on earth. So he became a tongue for hire, spending each day expressing the thoughts of others and voicing their opinions. And then one day, he found he could no longer speak his own mind.
From @awsmbong: "Language is just obscure but downright abusive sometimes to a feeling. She said a lot to me that night. I dare not ask her, what it was. We are back together. Last night at dinner, she said the same thing. I inquired; she was talking about a small male chicken, in her mother tongue."
From @bitchwanti: Life. The language she learned from her mother. Truth. The language her father taught her. Companionship. The language she shared with her brother. Love. The language He taught her. Silence. The language she shared with herself.
From @sarcogenic: "Her fingers moved furiously, while she concentrated on his lips. Emotions flared. Words flew. The argument intensified. How do you sign ‘I am sorry’, he tried to recall. And then she showed him the middle finger. They both burst into laughter. Sign language or not, some actions are very clear. "
From @ghaatidancer: "Nie wiem." "Sorry?" They had stood, looking at the street signs. "Przepraszam." As she turned to walk away, he held her arm. "Obiad?" He touched the tips of his fingers on one hand together and gestured towards his mouth. She nodded. As they walked towards the restaurant, he held out his hand. "Wojtek." "Rachana."
From @rbd_sqrl: “Ami Bangla Jani na”. These were the only words she knew. He stared at her puzzled face. An enigma, she was. The railway announcements continued. He was in a trance. For a moment, he was in a field with her, dancing. Her nudge brought him back to reality. ”Ami bangle Jani na. Help Me.”
From @Paanipuri_Lover: 26th November 2008, Leopold café, Mumbai. Sarah had gone to the ladies’ room leaving David, her husband and Ryan, her toddler in the lounge. Ten minutes later she escaped the place knowing she won’t be seeing them anymore. Hours later, she met Asha, nearly Ryan’s age. After hugging her, she knew language wasn’t a problem.
From @Oven_Tikka: A pretty picture they made, one in yellow, the other in white, bent over tea cups and pink buttercream cookies. Golden hair contrasted black perfectly. Blue eyes spread in wonder at the stories and mischief being narrated over tea. They were best friends, giggling over their own personal language. One was real, the other plastic.
From @caramelwings: It started with an awkward handshake. Table for two at a quaint coffee shop. I knew he was looking at me all along, but when I looked at him, he looked away blushingly. I couldn’t help but arrange and re-arrange my cutlery. Playing with my hair. Not a word spoken. Body Language at its best.
From @xmanishaa: She kept on blabbering with a smile on her face. She told him everything about her. Then a tear rolled down her cheek, she told him the biggest truth of her life. Even when she knew that he didn't understand a thing, he wiped her tear and pulled her cheek. Love didn't need a language.
From @khatteemithi: The mehndi gleamed. Her slim waistline lay tastefully bare while she tried to reach the top of the kitchen shelf. The sight tingled his mischievous genes but irony caught him aware - a stranger, yet his legally married wife. Inhibitions at bay he tiptoed behind, catching hold of her waist. ‘Bhenchod’, she gasped. Yeah Language.
From @missblurrii: He told her "It's a chilly night, so sleep tight." Not a word more was exchanged, she smiled and he waved. Her heart thawed. She knew this language of despair. She knew he wouldn't be back. Words unspoken had filled the air. Now she knew where she belonged. She knew,he wouldn't be around.
From @Aarom_Ramsey: There was obviously something wrong with the young man before me. I started to check off items on my mental checklist – attire- formal-check, posture-straight and relaxed-check, résumé -check, basic qualifications-check, languages known- C, C++, HTML, VB – What!! He was in the wrong room or the wrong place. We had advertised for a courier boy not THIS!
From @thebongbabe: Our eyes met, held, danced. Our fingers entwined – spoke volumes. The chilled pints of beer we shared created an intoxicating story. The words swirled around us on the balcony that night. Fate whispered a challenge….and we fell. Into each other, out of reality. Moments silently stolen before sunrise came – speaking the language of the mundane.
From @SpinandSwirl: He glanced at her, she looked away, angrily. He touched her shoulder slightly. She brushed it off, glaring at him. He tried again. This time, she frowned. He moved closer to hug her. She resisted, squirmed. He didn't let go. Finally she smiled. Her eyes forgave him. This was their language - no words needed.
From @whimsytales: Now that she is all yours, put her to good use. She be all your poems from today, she be your only muse. Let all your words scream only her name, let them dance around the beauty of that dame. She, only she- your prose, your rain, your hope, your pain, your art, your language.
From @sukhkarni: With dreams in his eyes, he set foot upon foreign soil, in search of his identity. He couldn't speak their language, nor could they understand his. Through hard work and dedication, he learnt the language of MONEY, and was a Polyglot, once and for all. Now, no soil was foreign, and no language a foreign language.
From @Blahblaholic_: He saw her one day, when he was loitering around the campus. He was mesmerized by her. Captivated. She smiled at him. They fell in love. He married her with their parents’ blessings. “Dude, does your wife hate me? Why won’t she say anything?” “She’s mute.” Because love, it speaks a language of its own!
From @OhTeri_: She never had friends. She never went out to play. After all the household chores and duties she is assigned to. She has a short conversation with the butterflies. She lays around,wondering about them. They never complain, never judge her by her clothes. Quietly they nudge her, brush her with wings. Language of Love!
From @SugarsnSpice: “ Are you going to say anything?”. “ Why? Got annoyed of my stares?”. “Not that, but speak, we can’t be just mesmerized whole night, right?”. “Then, learn to listen to these eyes”. “Your eyes has a language?”. “Everything does, even my silence has”. And, love and its mystery spoke in the sound of silence.
From @Shwetasque: The time had come. He could sense her presence. They had met earlier. She was a baby then,guarded by her mother. He had scarred her for life. She had remembered him all this time. Her eyes spoke. The language was unknown to him. He shot,missed .The Tigress ended it all in a flash.
From @violinraindrops: It wasn't said yet many words were heard at once. One couldn't have seen it yet it was there. The presence of that emotion surrounded them both. You may argue that the other was ignorant but, not by choice; no. He wasn't given time to think, for death finally spoke.
From @preetidhingra: No one really knew what actually happened past night but still they were cursing her. She was scared. Unable to tell everyone what she went through. And then he came to see her. She hugged him and cried. Not a word, just tears. Her tears told him the story of the night.
From @Itemboi: He scanned the entire room and spotted her at the bar. From the corner of her Remy Martin marinated eyes, she saw him swaggering towards her. She ran her fingers through her tresses. Eyes met. He understood her poison and left for his room, leaving a note. Minutes later… Ting tong. The language of lust.
From @Peachbiscuit: That Indian she had met was taciturn but hanged on her every word. She wanted to improve her Hindi. She said, "Let me know if I'm making ANY mistake!" He nodded. She started to speak. He didn't interrupt her. She went back home happy, unaware that the man she had been talking to was deaf.
From @TyroIndian: "The method of human communication, either spoken or written, consisting of the use of words in a structured and conventional way." This was the definition of language Manmohan had learnt in school. But when he met Meera he realised it is not the only definition, even a single heart is enough. Given it's not alone.
From @ChotuMissMuffet: I refused to leave the blanket and wake up when I heard the sound of her anklet as she came in. Her little hands tried to wake me up and she kissed me on the cheek. I see the little neighbour smile at me, as my eyes open. That gesture made my day! Clearly, love needs no language.
From @lady_shweta: The French woman tried to explain to the chaiwala on how she needed to go to passport office. "Tea memsaab" ? he asked "non..je veux aller au bureau des passeports" she smiled. "I like your smile" he said. Somewhere far a romantic song played on the radio and chaiwala fell in love with her.
From @nspeaks: Ram was having lunch with friends. Their conversation shifted to 'Love' when someone said "Love knows no languages". Everyone seemed to agree but Ram suddenly shouted, "Bullshit. Love knows only one language - Money" and left midway. His girlfriend had left him for a rich guy. Wish he'd realise it wasn't love in the first place.
From @Pomegranatee: They made sweet love. He looked deep into her eyes. She melted. They stayed there lying naked next to each other, all day. Without speaking a word, they let their bodies do the talking. He closed his eyes and thought, ' I'm marrying this woman.' She wondered what to make for kid's lunchbox next morning.
From @theaceofspade_: She woke up with tears in her eyes.‘‘You dreamt of the accident?'', she nodded. He hugged her, she felt safe. He had understood each of her emotion, for last 3 years, without her saying anything.3 years ago, that accident took away her voice. He still felt guilty. He should have never driven, while drunk.
From @phoonkoff: She ran with her hair wildly dancing behind her. At the door she turned around to see the man she was leaving behind. Language had no place between their eyes, words flowed through them. Speaking now made no sense. So, with just a blink of an eye she had to say goodbye.
From @abhrapal: He wrote a ‘g’, an ‘o’, then another and a ‘d’. His hand was shaking, stopping a few times in between letters. The next word was even more difficult. Something he had never written before. It took a few minutes. His teacher took his notebook and shook her head twice. “It’s M-O-R-N-I-N-G, not monring, Grandpa!”
From @lady_gabbar: He's the only son of a rich father. He's used to people doing what he wants them to do. Today,he saw her again...his lust at first sight. He walked upto her and said,"C'mon,just for one night." She slapped him & said,"Mind your language." & walked away!
From @freelosopher: Twenty-five, sentenced to life imprisonment and innocent, he'd talk endlessly to himself, the prison walls, non-existent friends; and occasionally with hostile inmates and no-nonsense prison guards in a language unfamiliar to him even after five years in prison. However, he had no such problems understanding the language spoken by the food cooked by his mother, once a month.
From @tanyachopra08: Crazy day it was. .Left work two hours later than usual. Sigh.. Hoped the bus would come on time...Well she got a seat too.. Two Ladies seated besides. One having Dairy Milk , the other,doughnut. Ahh! All she hoped, if they could see her eyes. Only if they knew the language. Language of hunger.
From @Adrenalyst: Onlookers think they're a couple. They're so engrossed in listening to each other. A fresh couple - She fiddles with his hand while talking, he smiles looking at her. They first met at this same community park bench last year. It is definitely Love on their side. She's french, the only language he learned before, Spanish.
From @maarwari: "I have seen children of her age saying the entire "Twinkle Twinkle" with action, and she doesn't even react to my voice, Why? " I smiled slyly, took daughter in arms, looked into those innocent eyes, "Chehal, kiska beta hai ? " , With widened eyes, she spoke for the first time "Papa" . Language of Love, Indeed.
From @JestChill: He looked at her, delighted. Heart singing. He'd been in love with her forever. Beautiful, stunning, above all, good. Her smile lit up his day, his life.. He loved her. With every breath, he wanted her. She didn't understand Hindi, he didn't speak Russian. But the eyes, oh, the eyes, they speak their own language....
From @textuallyhorny: He was obsessed with his mother tongue, biased with regionalism. He craved to see the world around him to speak only one language, his. A college goon, turned leader. He dreamt of ruling the state. Until that day, in a different state, he died of cardiac arrest. He complained, but they couldn’t comprehend his language.
From @parekhit: He lost his child a year after he lost his wife. He had no one to talk to, no one to share his sorrows. Only his dog. His dog had no comforting words but listened. Sometimes language is listening.
From @laalfirangi: Those tears that you shared with me, spoke great volumes about our love, this language of love that we share is not bound by any fancy words. We've found our qhome in each others arms, we find it effortless to just hug each other and see our world complete, every single time.
From @EvilMegamind: Eric: Will you marry me? Rose: No. Eric: Veux-tu m'épouser?
Rose: Arrgh.. NO. Eric: Tu nubere me? Rose: Oh Lord! Stop. I don’t know these languages, but I know what you want and my answer is NO. How many languages do you speak anyway? Eric: Including the language of love,
From @sweetchillly: It’s the language they speak for her.The lips do their talk,the eyes watch them say, the smiles make for those icings on the cake. But her lips can lie, smiles can fake but her Eyes never lie. It’s her eyes which speak volumes of truth, spilling out unspoken emotions and what they have been through