Said&Spoken

Author: nithya sudhir

  • Reviving Meaningful Conversations in a Digital Age

    Reviving Meaningful Conversations in a Digital Age

    Is small talk dying? Or are we not paying attention any more?

    Research by Robin Dunbar, ‘Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language’, 1996, Harvard University Press, suggests that small talk evolved as a form of “social grooming”, essential for human bonding. But today, people would rather look at their phones to avoid small talk. 

    I know I would.

    And when I can’t, I use the plain old – How’s it going? 

    That brings me to the question:

    Are we paying attention to how someone really is?

    I am sure you’d agree that we ask, “How are you?”, “How are you doing?”, “How’s it going?”, and the likes of “What’s up?” out of a reflex. When we ask, we prefer nothing more than the usual, ‘I’m good and you?” – because it keeps the conversation going. 

    What if we removed that social expression from our vocabulary?

    We’d be left with Hello… and a gulp, radio silence, and… an awkward smile?

    It wasn’t always so. The phrase once expressed genuine concern for another’s well-being.

    Was it because medical science wasn’t so developed and death was common or because fewer viral videos were going around that needed immediate catering? I’m not so sure. 

    A Quora answer sent me on a humorous yet intriguing journey that somehow led to poop. According to the French, the Romans linked health directly to digestion—yes, poop.

    And so, when they met on the street, they greeted each other with the Latin phrase “Quomodo defecás?”(meaning “How are you defecating?”) or a variation of it. Responses were short or detailed, describing consistency, shape, or any unusual changes— yes! this was completely normal.

    The Romans were quite open about bodily functions, and public latrines were social spaces where people discussed daily affairs while doing their business. 

    Then time passed by and people went their own ways and decided to politely inquire about not only about poop but other things. So they proceeded to the humble and modest, “How are you doing?”. 

    Not only for the Romans but also for every civilization that they had contact with – which is most of the world. 

    That said, there’s some debate over how widespread this practice was. It might be more of an amusing linguistic theory rather than a strictly documented historical fact.

    Today, “How are you?” wears a more superficial look, with little expectation of a deep or honest answer.

    But here’s the thing—small talk isn’t so small. Sometimes, it’s the one thing standing between someone and the edge of a bad day (or worse).

    Take this, for example:

    The “How Are You?” that could have prevented a suicide

    Kevin Hines, a survivor of a 2000 suicide-attempt from the Golden Gate Bridge, later revealed that he had hoped someone—anyone—would notice his distress and ask how he was, with real intent. No one did.

    He survived the jump, and his story became a powerful message for mental health awareness, proving that a simple, genuine “How are you?” can save a life.

    Viktor Frankl’s life-changing conversation in a concentration camp

    Viktor Frankl, the psychologist and Holocaust survivor who wrote Man’s Search for Meaning, was once asked “How are you?” by a fellow prisoner in Auschwitz. 

    Instead of giving the expected response, he reflected deeply on suffering, survival, and the power of meaning. That moment helped shape his theory that even in the worst conditions, a person can find purpose. 

    His book, inspired by such conversations, went on to influence millions.

    These stories are a reminder that even the most routine words can carry unexpected weight, depending on how they’re said and received. And it’s even more a reason for us to start paying attention. 

    So, ‘take care’.

    Some historians believe pirates used “Take care” as a serious warning—a reminder to avoid shipwrecks, scurvy, or even sea monsters (or at least, what they feared were sea monsters). It wasn’t a pleasantry; it was survival advice.

    Others speculate that “Take care of yourself” took on a darker twist in organized crime. Depending on the tone, it could be either a friendly farewell or a thinly veiled threat.

    But what’s the actual advice here? 

    Isn’t taking care a human’s most basic job? Breathing, eating, drinking water, sleeping, wearing expensive cologne, and slathering on niacinamide—aren’t these all variations of the same task? From the moment we’re born, survival is the one thing we’re programmed to do. So why do we still tell people to do the one thing they’re designed for?

    Because, despite having one job, humans are notoriously bad at it. We skip meals, ignore our emotions, burn out, and make questionable life choices. Sometimes, a simple “Take care” is the gentle nudge we need.

    Now, think about when someone says, “Hey… take care, alright?” with emphasis—suddenly, it carries weight, concern, maybe even a sense of protection.

    So, instead of tossing out “Take care” as an empty phrase, what if we actually meant it? What if, for a second, we tuned into the person’s well-being when we said it? Or better yet, what if we replaced it with something more intentional?

    Try these instead:

    • “Be kind to yourself.” (Because taking care isn’t just physical.)
    • “Stay good.” (A little mysterious, a little cool.)
    • “Hold yourself together. It will pay off” (For the ones barely managing, but still trying.)

    Words only matter if we make them matter.

    The key is intentionality—we’re so used to these small phrases that we forget they shape how people feel in conversations. Swapping the usual throwaways for more thoughtful, engaged, and precise alternatives can instantly make your interactions feel richer, more connected, and more meaningful.

    We think we communicate with full sentences, but in reality, these tiny, throwaway phrases shape how we are understood—and how we understand others.

    “Take care”, “How are you?”, “Oh, really…” and “What’s cooking?” are a blank canvas. The way we say them—or whether we swap them out for something more deliberate—determines if they actually mean something.

    And there’s proof that small talk matters.

    Movies flop hard when they don’t get it right. A film where every character only speaks in plot-relevant dialogue? Feels like watching aliens trying to impersonate humans. 

    Even doctors are trained in small talk because it helps patients feel more comfortable and less anxious.

    Imagine a doctor walking in and immediately saying, “Your blood work looks catastrophic.” Nope. Instead, they ease in with, “So, how’s your week been?” (as if that matters more than the impending medical doom, but hey, it works).

    The same goes for waiters who ask “How’s everything tasting?” instead of “Are you regretting your menu choice?”, or barbers who master the “Going anywhere nice on holiday?” question to avoid 30 minutes of silent, forced eye contact in the mirror.

    The point? It’s not enough to pay attention to opening and closing phrases—we should be intentional about everything that comes out of our mouths. Small talk isn’t filler; it’s the oil that keeps the social engine running. And who knows? Small talk isn’t an awkward necessity—it’s the first step toward a new story, an unexpected connection, or an adventure you didn’t see coming.

  • The Weight of Unspoken Words

    The Weight of Unspoken Words

    Is silence dying?

    During medieval Japan, there was a blind priest named Hoichi who was famous for reciting the tales of the Taira clan, a powerful group of samurai leaders. His performances were so moving that people often cried when they listened. 

    One summer night, while Hoichi was practicing alone at the Amidaji temple, a samurai came and asked him to perform for his master. Hoichi agreed and was taken to a graveyard. There, he unknowingly played for the spirits of the Taira clan every night.

    At the temple, seeing that Hoichi disappeared every night, the priest started to worry. After investigating, he realized that Hoichi was not performing for living people, but for the spirits of the dead. 

    These spirits didn’t belong in the world of the living, and their presence was harmful. 

    The priest wanted to protect Hoichi from their vengeful power.

    So one night, to keep the spirits from finding Hoichi, the priest paints sacred Buddhist characters, called sutras, all over Hoichi’s body. They were meant to make him invisible to the spirits. 

    In haste, however, the priest forgets to cover Hoichi’s ears. 

    That night, when the spirits realize Hoichi isn’t coming to play for them. They come looking. They see Hoichi’s ears and, in anger, tear them off. 

    Luckily, Hoichi survives but is left earless. From then on, he became known as “Mimi-nashi Hoichi,” or “Hoichi the Earless.”

    This story is part of Japanese folklore. It’s a reminder of how powerful silence can be. It emphasises the importance of protecting oneself from things that can’t be easily seen, heard or understood. 

    To me this story highlights something else — to protect oneself from things that can’t be seen or heard — study silence. 

    On a side note, if this was me, I’d try to use words to convince the samurai spirit. I feel communication solves everything. I’ve learnt, in some special cases though, that it makes things far worse. 

    I never liked silence as a response so much. There are too many words. And to use none is a waste of resources. Keeping a conversation good signals interest. It means, a) you’re an interesting person b) you are interested in the person you’re having a conversation with. 

    I’m constantly asking myself what’s left on the road where words end? 

    Is silence a place where conversations go to die?

    Maybe it was because I was never very good with silence. 

    I mean, who is?

    Silence though, as I’ve realized writing this article, is powerful. 

    Sometimes the most fitting reply to a futile argument, to an insult, a hateful comment, or a spiteful reaction. Speaking volumes in grief. 

    When used as a tool silence can deny the manipulator the reaction they crave. Withholding words can become a form of control, making the other person chase validation. In negotiations, silence can be a tactic—forcing the other party to make the next move.

    In one of history’s most famous battles — the Battle of Guagamela 331 BCE — Alexander the Great used silence as a psychological weapon. 

    His army stood in absolute silence, waiting for the Persian army to make the first move. Darius III’s massive forces, used to war cries and intimidation, grew uneasy at the unnatural quiet. The silence created tension, uncertainty, and fear. 

    When Alexander finally commanded his attack, the Persians were already mentally shaken—and he crushed the much larger army.

    Such a huge range of places that you could use silence and it would make more noise than any word ever would. 

    We think of words as our main form of communication. But what we don’t say, sometimes, communicate the loudest. 

    The Silent Interview That Made a Point 

    Performance artist Marina Abramović once conducted an experiment in pure silence. She sat in a museum, across from a stranger, without speaking, for a full minute. The only rule: no talking, just eye contact. Within seconds, people started crying. Some laughed nervously, others felt vulnerable, exposed.

    Why? 

    Because we aren’t used to silence. We use words as a shield, but when forced to sit in pure quiet, we confront something deeper.

    That one silent minute spoke louder than any conversation ever could.

    You have to check out the music video here:  How I became the bomb – Ulay, Oh with lyrics (Music Video)

    The Paradox of Silence

    What Frightens Us More—Words or Their Absence?

    Are we more afraid of what’s said or what’s left unsaid?

    The silence after a friend stops replying.
    The empty comment section on an Instagram post.
    The absence of applause for a speech we spent a week perfecting.
    The way colleagues just blink after our presentation—no feedback, no reaction, just silence.

    We crave words, not just to express ourselves, but to confirm we’ve been heard. And when they don’t come, the silence feels deafening.

    We’ve made ourselves so uncomfortable with it too. Being around it, in it. 

    All these phrases, calm before the storm, a hush fell over the room, The stillness before disaster, a whisper in the wind, teachers expecting, “pin-drop silence”, left hanging in silence — although all of them do support my point here. 

    The Assasination of JFK

    On November 22, 1963, the world was shaken by the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. But one of the most haunting parts of that day wasn’t just the news—it was the silence that followed.

    Walter Cronkite’s famous news broadcast delivered the announcement with measured words, but it was the long pause he took, trying to collect himself, that made history.

    It wasn’t the words mourning a fallen leader that carried the most weight—it was the collective, breathless silence of a nation in grief.

    Why are we so uncomfortable in silence?

    We are constantly stimulated today by social media. When you take away our devices – we begin to think. Silence makes us confront our thoughts and we have gone far away from being comfortable with that. 

    The lack of this stimulation can create an echo chamber of internal doubts and insecurities that push us into spirals of overthinking. 

    The added taboo to silence forces us to interpret silence as a rejection or failure. 

    Before humans developed spoken language, silence wasn’t awkward—it was survival. Early humans relied on body language, facial expressions, and gestures rather than spoken words.

    Once humans developed language, silence took on a new role. Language made verbal connection the norm, and silence became the absence of that connection.

    Tribes and early societies depended on spoken words to coordinate hunting, defend territory, and strengthen bonds.

    Silence started signaling something was off—danger, exclusion, or uncertainty.

    Here’s a nice article on the origin of silence. 

    This got me thinking—is silence really the absence of sound? Can there ever be a true lack of sound?

    Our bodies hum with life—breath whispering, hearts drumming, the quiet churn of the gut. Sound exists everywhere, even if we cannot hear it.

    And yet, when we honor the dead, we say, “Let’s hold a minute of silence.” Why?

    If silence is truly empty, then what are we really doing in that moment? What are we acknowledging when we all stop speaking at once?

    The Two-Minute Silence (1919) was introduced after World War I because words felt inadequate to capture the loss of millions.

    The tradition of observing a two-minute silence on Armistice Day to honor fallen soldiers was proposed by Edward George Honey in 1919. 

    Disturbed by the celebratory manner of marking the end of World War I, Honey suggested a silent reflection instead. 

    This simple act of collective silence became a profound way for nations to express grief, respect, and unity without uttering a single word.

    Weight of unspoken words in the real world

    Silence is so different from it. Isn’t it a sound we choose to make? Unspoken yet deafening. We don’t just listen to what’s said—we listen to what’s left unsaid. We hear it. 

    Words left unsaid can be quite as beautiful as poetry. Rodin famously described sculpting as the act of removing everything that didn’t belong to the sculpture. Louis Armstrong believed that the most important notes were the ones he left unplayed. 

    In Japanese culture, silence in conversation is respected—a sign of thoughtfulness and emotional depth.

    The “Silent Interview” That Spoke Volumes

    Before he became the world’s most famous mime, Marcel Marceau was a French Resistance fighter. And how did he save Jewish children from Nazi capture?

    Through silence.

    As a young man, Marceau worked with the Resistance, helping children escape to Switzerland. He used mime to keep them quiet, entertaining them with silent performances while they hid. His silence quite literally saved lives—because making noise could mean being caught.

    Later, he would say:
    “Never get a mime talking, because he won’t stop.”
    But back then, his silence was his greatest weapon.

    Embracing words and the lack thereof

    In Finland, there’s a cultural concept known as “ei tarvitse puhua,” which translates to “no need to talk.” This reflects a societal norm where silence is comfortable and doesn’t require filling. Finns often value quietness, viewing it as a sign of respect and thoughtfulness. This tradition may stem from the country’s vast landscapes and sparse population, where people became accustomed to solitude and introspection.​

    The Japanese concept of “Ma” refers to the meaningful silence or pause between words, actions, or objects. It’s an integral part of Japanese aesthetics and communication, emphasizing that what’s left unsaid can be as important as what’s spoken.This idea encourages listeners to read between the lines and appreciate subtlety, reflecting a cultural appreciation for nuance and restraint.​

    Silence isn’t empty—it’s a space where transformation happens. But in a world wired for noise, stillness can feel unsettling. Learning to be comfortable with silence isn’t just about tolerating it—it’s about rewiring your brain to thrive in it.

    Silence can be thoughtful, meaningful, and intentional. It’s not always awkward or empty.

    Powerful Methods to Get Used to Silence

    1. The “Void Training” Method 

    Spend 5-10 minutes a day doing nothing—no distractions, no music, no phone. Just sit and observe.

    Result: 

    • Activates your parasympathetic nervous system, reducing stress and increasing tolerance for stillness.
    • Over time, your brain shifts from craving external noise to being able to sit with itself—reducing impulsivity and anxiety.

    2. The “Echo Effect” 

    When someone speaks, pause before responding. Let their words settle.

    Result: 

    • Teaches deep listening. Most people rush to fill the silence; learning to hold space deepens conversations and allows insights to emerge.
    • Helps your brain slow down, process emotions better, and respond thoughtfully instead of reactively.

    3. “Monk Mode” Training 

    Dedicate a few hours—or even a day—to complete silence. No talking, no screens, no distractions.

    Result:

    • What it does: Sharpens awareness—when words disappear, you become hyper-aware of thoughts, emotions, and surroundings.
    • Increases neuroplasticity, rewiring your brain to feel at ease in quiet spaces instead of feeling the urge to “fill” them.

    4. The “Verbal Fasting” Approach 

    Pick one day a week where you speak only when necessary. No mindless chatter, no small talk—just meaningful words.

    Result:

    • Trains you to speak intentionally, making your words more impactful.
    • Brain transformation: Enhances self-awareness—you start noticing how much of what we say is unnecessary.

    If you find yourself agreeing to things you never wanted to because you want to fill up the space with words, use — “Let me think about that.” or “I’ll get back to you on that.” Instead of responding immediately, embrace the pause.

    Tell yourself: “I don’t need to fill this space”, as a reminder that silence is not awkward; it’s powerful. “I can listen without preparing my response.”, to be present. And “Less, but better.”, as a philosophy to say less, but mean more.

    The Journey: What Changes When You Master Silence?

    1. At first, silence feels awkward. You feel the urge to check your phone, talk, or escape.
    2. Then, silence becomes observation. You start noticing your own thoughts, emotions, and patterns.
    3. Next, silence becomes comfortable. You feel at ease in your own presence, no longer needing external validation.
    4. Eventually, silence becomes power. Your words gain weight, your mind gains clarity, and your presence commands respect.

    Engaging in periods of silence can have profound effects on the brain, facilitating various positive changes:​

    1. Promotion of Neurogenesis: Research indicates that silence can stimulate the growth of new brain cells, particularly in the hippocampus, a region associated with memory formation and emotional regulation. ​medium.com+1forbes.com+1

    2. Activation of the Default Mode Network (DMN): In quiet moments, the brain’s DMN becomes active, allowing for self-reflection, memory consolidation, and introspection. This network supports our ability to understand ourselves and others, fostering empathy and creativity. ​pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

    3. Stress Reduction: Silence can lower cortisol levels, leading to reduced stress and tension. This calming effect allows the brain to recover from external stimuli, promoting overall mental well-being. ​uplift.love

    Incorporating silence into daily life, such as through meditation or mindful pauses, can harness these benefits, leading to a healthier and more adaptable brain.​

    When you stop fearing silence, you start owning it. And that’s where the real transformation begins.

  • Why ‘I’m Fine’ Can Sabotage Connections: A Deep Dive

    Why ‘I’m Fine’ Can Sabotage Connections: A Deep Dive

    Are you okay?
    “I’m fine.”
    “Are you really okay?”

    We all know where this conversation is going right?

    That can mean anything from “I’m barely holding it together” to “I will set this house on fire with my mind”— nothing nearly close to being fine — and yet, we toss it around like a verbal handshake. 

    It’s the universal equivalent of pressing the ‘Skip Intro’ button on Netflix. 

    Efficient? Yes. Emotionally fulfilling? Not so much.

    In the 16th–17th century, “Fine” was often used to describe something of high quality (a fine wine, a fine lady).

    In the 18th–19th century, it began being used more commonly about a person’s well-being. “I am fine” meaning one was in good health or spirits.

    In the 20th century, it became a default, polite response in casual conversations. 

    But as social niceties developed, “I’m fine” also took on a layer of emotional deflection—often said when someone isn’t fine at all.

    By the late 20th and early 21st centuries, texting culture and the lack of tone in it led to misinterpretation, and “I’m fine”became a go-to phrase for shutting down conversations. 

    It became notorious for being a passive-aggressive or emotionally repressed response. 

    ​​As conversations around mental health and emotional expression grew, people became more aware of hidden emotional cues in everyday speech. 

    In relationships, “I’m fine” is often a red flag that things are not fine—sometimes carrying an unspoken expectation that the other person should already know what’s wrong.

    The problem is, that habitual responses like “I’m fine” aren’t just social lubrication—they’re conversation roadblocks. Over time, they condition us to expect nothing more from our interactions. 

    We stop listening and stop engaging, and instead of forming connections, we merely exchange empty syllables like malfunctioning customer service bots.

    When conversations become purely transactional, people feel less valued and less seen. 

    The truth is, small talk is a social script, and “I’m fine” is its leading actor. It’s the phrase we use to dodge vulnerability while keeping things running smoothly, like an IT guy ignoring the ‘Update Required’ notification on an office computer for six months. 

    But let’s be real—what if we stopped running on autopilot and answered honestly?

    What if, instead of defaulting to “I’m fine,” we gave people something real? Not a therapy session, of course, but an honest, middle-ground response that invites connection. So, next time someone asks, “How are you?” consider whether “I’m fine” is cutting it. 

    If you want to know how someone is doing, maybe don’t settle for “I’m fine.” Instead, ask: “Fine, how?” or “I’m here, we have time, do you want to talk about it?”

    A good listener: the ultimate green flag

    Studies show that when people feel heard, stress decreases, and belonging increases

    But how do we know someone is truly listening? Maybe they are staring at our faces thinking of how many calories speaking burns or how many tongue rolls one can do in a day. 

    Tiny verbal cues, the linguistic equivalent of micro-expressions, signal engagement, skepticism, or emotional distance in a conversation.

    How a raised eyebrow or a fleeting smirk can expose true feelings. “Oh, really?”, “I see”, or “You know?” can make you seem a little bit hostile. 

    • Oh, really?” can express genuine curiosity (Tell me more!) or quiet doubt (That sounds unlikely).
    • “I see.” might be deep understanding (I get it now!) or complete indifference (I’m waiting for my turn to talk).
    • “You know?” can invite agreement (We’re on the same page, right?) or act as a filler (I need a second to gather my thoughts). 
  • Collaboration Magic

    Collaboration Magic

    Welcome to WordPress! This is a sample post. Edit or delete it to take the first step in your blogging journey. To add more content here, click the small plus icon at the top left corner. There, you will find an existing selection of WordPress blocks and patterns, something to suit your every need for content creation. And don’t forget to check out the List View: click the icon a few spots to the right of the plus icon and you’ll get a tidy, easy-to-view list of the blocks and patterns in your post.

  • Teamwork Triumphs

    Teamwork Triumphs

    Welcome to WordPress! This is a sample post. Edit or delete it to take the first step in your blogging journey. To add more content here, click the small plus icon at the top left corner. There, you will find an existing selection of WordPress blocks and patterns, something to suit your every need for content creation. And don’t forget to check out the List View: click the icon a few spots to the right of the plus icon and you’ll get a tidy, easy-to-view list of the blocks and patterns in your post.