Silence: the True Power of Storytelling

I was at an award ceremony, and my previous speaker had just taken the stage.

3 minutes of an introduction cum thank-you keynote, followed by the garlanding, award and applauds.

I tuned in to the voice on the mic, counting down, waiting to go next.

And then I heard...

“I am.”

This speaker.

She said these two words, tilted her head a little, gave a knowing nod, and smiled.

Yes, so?

We waited.

Patient, at first.

Slightly shifting in our chairs, moments later.

Pause.

And only after what seemed a long while, she said it again: “I am.”

And then… another pause.

Well, a longer pause.

Wait, this is ... what?

Did she forget what she wanted to say? Lost her nerve? Frizzled?

But then, she is smiling!

Now here’s the thing about silence. Especially when it comes to public speaking.

They are tricky.

They can make you nervous.

They can feel like a waste of time.

An error in judgment.

A mistake.

“Poor thing, must have forgotten the speech!” the gentleman next to me muttered in my ears. And many of the rest of us nodded along.

I stole a glance at her again.

She is still smiling!

Clearly, her nerves were of steel.

I sat there and got nervous on behalf of her and started sending the due chills down my spine, clammy palms, and all those familiar feelings we who speak on stages are familiar with.

Her smile only widened with every passing moment, and her gaze shifted from one face in the audience to another, then another.

“I am,” I heard her say a third time, and break into a grin.

Is she mad?

“Does that make you uncomfortable,” - I heard her ask, and I darted my eyes towards her.

Heck, yes! This pause, it was planned. She meant it.

“That sentence - "I am" - does that make you uncomfortable?" - she egged on.

Of course!

By now I was seriously looking at the Emcee waiting for her to call 100.

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I looked into her face carefully. She sported a ponytail, and a steady smile.

Which told me she hasn’t forgotten her speech.

In fact, it seemed she knew more than she spoke.

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“Do you think my sentence, it is incomplete?” she now held the gaze steady on the first row audience. I saw their eyes sparkle. They seemed to have got it.

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“How do you complete that sentence, what do you say: I am a woman, a mother, a wife, a vice president, a teacher?” She coaxed us on: “Who are you?”

Well, it was only now that it dawned on me.

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The power.

Of that question.

Of that realisation.

Of silence.

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As a Distinguished Toastmaster clocking an average of 10-12 stage-hours a week for several years now, I have long memorised that magic equation.

An average human being speaks 100-120 words a minute which leaves you with 600 words as a safety net for your 5-7 minutes of stage time, and 700 at a stretch.

In those many words you got to tell your life’s story, personal anecdote, inspire, perspire, despair. Even crack a joke or two to get the audience on your side. And leave them with takeaway.

Check, check, check.

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You know what?

That calculation, it’s a trap.

I tell you today, don’t fall for it again.

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I understand why we do that.

Of course, the greatest fear is of public speaking.

That we’ll forget our speech?

That we’ll stop in the middle and not know what to say?

That we’ll go silent?

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Here I ask you now:

What if you win over that fear?

What if you make friend with silence?

Hold its hand and take it with you up the podium?

Stand with it? Smile?

What if you let silence sit at the heart of your speech?

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Have you ever thought of the immense energy that is a silence?

Have you explored it enough, toyed with it, used it like a sword that cuts through the crowd and cacophony that is such that often, like water, you search silence?

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I tell you, give it a chance.

Forget that 700 words thumb-rule for a 5-7 minutes of speech.

Know, it is not a race of who says most.

It is an experience, who takes you there.

To your inside.

Deeper.

Fast.

Best.

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And often, silence is the only car that flies.

In that zone.

Know.

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Mozart had said: “The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.”

And you’d agree – he knew a thing or two about music. About art.

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Public speaking too is a form of art, like music, only if we know to play it well.

Here’s a tip: Tune your speeches with success.

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And when it starts to get uncomfortable, know: “I am” is a perfectly complete sentence on its own.

It is uncomfortable, yes, yet complete.

With meaning and experience.

Just, like silence.

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I’m?Sinjini Sengupta ?- Founder, Lighthouse - former actuarial leader turned author, speaker and story evangelist.

I believe stories can change everything we think, do or feel, and therefore the world as we know it. Its power is immense. We are only one story-step away from being a better version of ourselves.

At?LIGHTHOUSE ??we help leaders, founders and change-makers use Storytelling for Leadership, Business, Impact, Culture and Influence.

We work extensively with

- Data Storytelling

- Leadership Growth

- Gender & DEIB programs

DM to?[email protected]

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