"Machi.. Hostel poga venaam. Konja neram nadapom da. Oru vishayam.. Enna panrathu ne therla.." A request from a friend on the way to hostel.
"Dai! Paal pidichutu room'ku vaa. Inniku oru prechana aagi pochu." A text message from a friend in hostel at 10 pm.
"Roll call yeppa unnaku? 8:30 ku thaane?! Apram enna.. Muditu okaaru. Pesanum!" An order of a friend at 7 pm, seated on a bench near the college entrance.
All such statements trigger a mixed feeling in me whenever I hear them. Joy that a friend is about to share a fragment of his living experience with me. Sadness that he has been made to encounter a problem in his journey.
One-on-one conversations have a magic of their own.
While in a group, there might be an attempt to impress some member or an act of false vanity. But one-on-one conversations reveal the true nature.
Words that are uttered, take birth at the heart. Not in a calculated way at the brain.
No effort is taken to justify an action. No effort is taken to glorify an action. An act of jealousy is explained as such. An act of insecurity is confessed as such.
One-on-one conversations also help you learn more about people.
A person who seems like he could crack a joke even when in an accident tends to break down at the slightest hint of a problem with a loved one.
A person who seems like he could withstand a 35 hour secret service interrogation tends to collapse at a tiny hurtful remark of a friend.
And these conversations, on many occasions, steer back to the past which make them even more memorable.
A tale of an impossible choice between a friend and a lover, a tale of not meeting the expectation of a parent, a tale of having been misunderstood by a friend, a tale of not getting the deserved recognition, a tale of inability to talk to a liked one, a tale of possessiveness since a liked one has a really close friend, a tale of having an artistic talent fade away with maturity, a tale of not having an aim in life, a tale of being constantly mocked at by classmates, a tale of feeling inferior to an intellectual friend, a tale of failing at one's passion - All these, however often they may be depicted in stories and films, always have managed to adopt an uniqueness when narrated by a friend.
All such conversations that would involve me and any of my friends have always had the spoken-amount ratio of 9:1, 9 being the amount my friend would speak and 1 being, my amount. The main reason - I love listening.
Many people fail to experience the ecstasy of listening.
When a person utters a statement, they hurriedly try to register their opinion or pass out their suggestion. They are in a hurry to make themselves heard which completely jeopardizes the objective of the conversation.
A person opens up, primarily, because he/she wants to give the heart a vent. But most of such conversations are misunderstood as a cry for help or suggestion.
There are, of course, conversations that call for a suggestion. But most people tend to open up for the simple sake of sharing and by the time they end their tale, all that they look for is an assertion rather than a suggestion. An assertion that their actions in their tale were right. An assertion that the way they want to proceed further is right.
Our duty would lie in absorbing, completely, the tale and pointing out, politely, if there was visible a wrong intention/act instead of turning it into a discussion as to whose life is better or worse as is usually done.
And I guess this is the reason that I am chosen by many of my friends for sharing their stories. Simply because I listen.
It pains me knowing that these one-on-one conversations would be coming to an end, at least, on a face to face basis.
There is definitely not going to be a shortage of friends as I move ahead with life but I believe that the problems that formed a basis for the sharing are what made the conversations special.
Life, in a short time, would become too serious to worry about a friend not wishing for a birthday at midnight or to worry about not being in the Facebook profile picture of a loved one.
"Dai! Paal pidichutu room'ku vaa. Inniku oru prechana aagi pochu." A text message from a friend in hostel at 10 pm.
"Roll call yeppa unnaku? 8:30 ku thaane?! Apram enna.. Muditu okaaru. Pesanum!" An order of a friend at 7 pm, seated on a bench near the college entrance.
All such statements trigger a mixed feeling in me whenever I hear them. Joy that a friend is about to share a fragment of his living experience with me. Sadness that he has been made to encounter a problem in his journey.
One-on-one conversations have a magic of their own.
While in a group, there might be an attempt to impress some member or an act of false vanity. But one-on-one conversations reveal the true nature.
Words that are uttered, take birth at the heart. Not in a calculated way at the brain.
No effort is taken to justify an action. No effort is taken to glorify an action. An act of jealousy is explained as such. An act of insecurity is confessed as such.
One-on-one conversations also help you learn more about people.
A person who seems like he could crack a joke even when in an accident tends to break down at the slightest hint of a problem with a loved one.
A person who seems like he could withstand a 35 hour secret service interrogation tends to collapse at a tiny hurtful remark of a friend.
And these conversations, on many occasions, steer back to the past which make them even more memorable.
A tale of an impossible choice between a friend and a lover, a tale of not meeting the expectation of a parent, a tale of having been misunderstood by a friend, a tale of not getting the deserved recognition, a tale of inability to talk to a liked one, a tale of possessiveness since a liked one has a really close friend, a tale of having an artistic talent fade away with maturity, a tale of not having an aim in life, a tale of being constantly mocked at by classmates, a tale of feeling inferior to an intellectual friend, a tale of failing at one's passion - All these, however often they may be depicted in stories and films, always have managed to adopt an uniqueness when narrated by a friend.
All such conversations that would involve me and any of my friends have always had the spoken-amount ratio of 9:1, 9 being the amount my friend would speak and 1 being, my amount. The main reason - I love listening.
Many people fail to experience the ecstasy of listening.
When a person utters a statement, they hurriedly try to register their opinion or pass out their suggestion. They are in a hurry to make themselves heard which completely jeopardizes the objective of the conversation.
A person opens up, primarily, because he/she wants to give the heart a vent. But most of such conversations are misunderstood as a cry for help or suggestion.
There are, of course, conversations that call for a suggestion. But most people tend to open up for the simple sake of sharing and by the time they end their tale, all that they look for is an assertion rather than a suggestion. An assertion that their actions in their tale were right. An assertion that the way they want to proceed further is right.
Our duty would lie in absorbing, completely, the tale and pointing out, politely, if there was visible a wrong intention/act instead of turning it into a discussion as to whose life is better or worse as is usually done.
And I guess this is the reason that I am chosen by many of my friends for sharing their stories. Simply because I listen.
It pains me knowing that these one-on-one conversations would be coming to an end, at least, on a face to face basis.
There is definitely not going to be a shortage of friends as I move ahead with life but I believe that the problems that formed a basis for the sharing are what made the conversations special.
Life, in a short time, would become too serious to worry about a friend not wishing for a birthday at midnight or to worry about not being in the Facebook profile picture of a loved one.
(The College Diaries is
a shameless attempt to increase the number of posts in this blog in a short
span of time and in the process, recall and cherish various instances and
incidents of my college life that strike pain and pleasure in the heart in this
last fortnight I spend here.)
No comments:
Post a Comment