Writing in the Spaces Between Words: Komal Shahani and the Language of Silence
At the heart of Kalam Ki Khamoshi lies a quiet conviction: that what remains unsaid can carry as much emotional weight as what is spoken aloud. As Shahani explains, the book returns repeatedly to “unspoken emotions and the power of silence”. Even the title, translated as The Silence of the Pen, signals an interest in restraint rather than excess, in hesitation rather than declaration.
From Reading to Writing
Shahani’s relationship with language began, as it does for many writers, with reading. She describes books as her “secret passport” during childhood, a way of seeing the ordinary differently. That attentiveness later translated into writing, first through poetry and blogs, and eventually into long-form work. Her first poem, written in class 10 about Rani Laxmi Bai, marked an early moment of realisation that emotion could be shaped and held by words.
Still, seeing herself as an author was not immediate. Shahani notes that she truly began to identify as one only when writing stopped being a distant ambition and became a commitment. “I began to see myself as an author the day I committed to that book, when the pages stopped being ‘someday’ and became ‘work in progress.’” This sense of discipline, of showing up consistently to the page, continues to shape her approach to writing.
Balancing a corporate career in Bengaluru with creative work has also influenced her perspective. Writing, for Shahani, is not a performance but a private practice. She describes it as her “calm place”, almost meditative in nature. That inwardness is clearly reflected in Kalam Ki Khamoshi, which resists spectacle and instead cultivates stillness.
Silence as Theme and Method
Silence in Kalam Ki Khamoshi functions both thematically and structurally. Many of the poems and short pieces revolve around moments when language falters: feelings that are withheld, thoughts that remain internal, conversations that never quite happen. Shahani explains that “sometimes silence speaks louder than words”, and the book takes this idea seriously.
Rather than framing silence as lack or failure, the collection presents it as choice, protection, and even communication. Characters and poetic voices often pause, not because they have nothing to say, but because what they carry is complex, fragile, or deeply personal. In this way, silence becomes an ethical stance, a refusal to simplify emotion for the sake of clarity.
This approach also reflects Shahani’s broader interest in vulnerability. She is drawn to “inner strength that comes from vulnerability” and to people who are “quietly resilient”. Kalam Ki Khamoshi gives space to those forms of resilience, acknowledging that endurance does not always announce itself.
Writing for the Reader, Not the Market
One of the tensions Shahani openly addresses is the gap between writing and visibility. She notes that while writing itself remains meaningful, “the toughest part today isn’t writing, it’s getting the book discovered.” In an era dominated by streaming platforms, algorithms, and shortened attention spans, books must compete not only with each other but with entirely different forms of entertainment.
This reality has forced many authors, Shahani included, to become their own marketers. She speaks candidly about repurposing poems into short reels and collaborating with literature platforms to extend the book’s reach. Yet there is an irony here: a book rooted in silence must still find a voice in a noisy marketplace. As she puts it, “silence is the heart of my work, but to bring it to readers I must give it a steady, honest voice in the marketplace.”
Despite these pressures, Kalam Ki Khamoshi does not feel shaped by trends or external expectations. Shahani is clear about her commitment to authenticity. She writes in a “simple, straightforward way” and has consciously resisted suggestions to make her style more complex. This choice aligns with the book’s emotional honesty. The language never distracts from the feeling it carries.
Feedback, Voice, and Creative Integrity
Shahani’s approach to feedback further reveals her understanding of authorship as dialogue rather than authority. She welcomes responses from readers but remains selective in how she acts on them. Feedback is assessed based on its source and intent, and whether it strengthens the work’s core purpose.
Importantly, she does not see disagreement as failure. Instead, she “parks” feedback that conflicts with her instincts, revisiting it later with distance. Sometimes it proves useful. Sometimes it reaffirms her original choices. This process reflects a careful balance between openness and self-trust.
That balance is particularly significant for a book like Kalam Ki Khamoshi, where voice is understated and easily misunderstood. Protecting the work’s quiet integrity becomes part of the author’s responsibility.
Readers, Recognition, and Shared Silence
One of the most meaningful outcomes of the book, according to Shahani, has been reader response. She speaks of readers writing back with their own unspoken stories, creating what she describes as “a community of quiet souls”. This exchange highlights one of the book’s central achievements: it allows readers to feel understood without being exposed.
Kalam Ki Khamoshi does not demand confession from its readers. It does not push them toward catharsis. Instead, it offers recognition. In a literary culture that often prioritises revelation and explanation, this restraint feels deliberate and deeply respectful.
Why Kalam Ki Khamoshi Matters
At its core, Kalam Ki Khamoshi challenges dominant assumptions about expression. It suggests that voice does not always need volume, that meaning does not require immediacy, and that silence can be an active, expressive force.
For readers who feel overwhelmed by constant noise, both external and emotional, the book offers an alternative mode of engagement. It allows reading to be slow, partial, and unfinished. It respects the reader’s inner life and does not seek to resolve it.
Shahani’s work reminds us that literature does not always need to explain the world. Sometimes, it simply needs to sit with it. In doing so, Kalam Ki Khamoshi creates space, not only for reflection, but for a quieter, more sustainable way of being with words.
In the end, the book does not ask to be interpreted or decoded. It asks only to be met with patience. And for those willing to listen to what remains unsaid, it offers something rare: the comfort of silence that understands.
Interview by The Bookish Gossips
Written by Ana Lopes
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