Though I daily have more visitors than all the people living on the two adjacent streets and mine rolled into one – owing, needless to say, to the nature of my profession – I have gradually, over a long time, become a very socially aloof person. Neighbours know me as a man of few words, I rarely start a conversation or visit people or take part in social do’s, and though invariably polite in a formal way if similarly accosted on the street (‘How are you doing, Sir?’), I keep it short and get away as soon as is possible without being positively rude. This even applies to ex students who suddenly turn up after having been completely out of touch for years. Most un-Bengali, isn’t it? How did I become like this?
I believe that circumstances mould and even to some extent permanently change character, especially if those circumstances relentlessly grate against aspects of your essential self. I began life as a very shy, reserved person who liked best to keep his own company. Then, late in teenage, having found much that was fun and challenging about interpersonal interactions (from romance to debating to journalistic work and teaching), and simultaneously that I could hold people’s attention for extended periods as a natural talker, I dived into that kind of life with gusto. But experiences of a very unpleasant sort kept coming thick and fast, and just kept on coming, for years and decades. Snooty as this sounds, I quickly discovered that most people, my age and much older, were boring – their interests were very narrow, their knowledge almost non-existent, their sense of humour wanting, their grasp of language poor, their love of gossip distressing, and their only real purpose behind conversing was either to kill time or to impose their half-baked opinions on everyone else. Yes, that is what I sadly found (and that is what I still find on social media!), everywhere from tea stalls to wedding halls, from official interviews (remember the reporter’s job?) to the school staff room, and, alas, parties of peers.
As if that was not enough, I discovered to my great dismay that a) people who pretend as a rule do not actually like you, b) they speak nonsense, tell lies, and spread unutterable abuse behind your back, all the bhadralok you used to know, and worst of all, c) everybody ultimately forgets and moves on, male and female alike, including all those who had averred that I had marked their lived indelibly and they could never imagine falling out of touch. Call me naïve, call me silly, call me any derogatory thing you like, it took me a long, long time to find out. But it is a fact of life that lessons you learn the hard way over a long period of time are the lessons that are most deeply seared into your brain.
Finally, in contrast to what most people believe in this country – that you have to maintain at least an elaborate pretence of affection, caring and respect for relatives and friends and neighbours simply because you have to count on them to pull you out of every successive sticky situation in your life – I have been hurt, misled and fooled by far too many, and genuinely helped by far too few. So that over the last twenty years or so I have come to cling ever more strongly to a very old-fashioned idea: that it is God and my own karma which decides how much good and bad I shall have to face in life, not the favours or evil machinations of people whom I know or knew. And so today, beyond my old mother and my grown up daughter, I don’t really bother about any human being. I don’t wish anyone ill, I shall always try to help if someone I know is in serious distress in front of my eyes, I shall not speak harshly unless so spoken to… but I have stopped letting people affect my life in any enduring sense. I shall die lonely, and I am increasingly reconciled to the idea. As the poet wrote, ‘Tis God shall repay/ I am safer so’. In this life and hereafter. I wonder if any reader really believes s/he has a better idea about how to live a good life?
5 comments:
Sir,
A rather intriguing post.
Where I live, people do not engage in idle banter, chit-chat or "adda". People talk when they absolutely need to, like when they are working together on something and need to communicate, or when they are playing soccer, or practicing music. After eighteen years, I have become so used to that that I would find it easier to keep quiet than gossip. I guess that is why there are so few Indians here and most of them don't like living here nor have any real local friends.
The only people I can think of talking with are my wife and son (and mother on Whatsapp).
All best to you and your dear ones.
Best regards,
Rajdeep
I read a very interesting quote at an important juncture in my life, just a few years ago. "Jitna bhi gyaaniyon ke saath baitho, tajurba ch^%$€@ katne ke baad hi aata hai." Age is a wonderful thing, it teaches us the futality of most things. And with that comes the understanding of detachment and boundaries. When our belief systems shatter to the ground and we fall flat on our faces, in shock and bewilderment, is when the real learning begins. We start to value our own company, and if we are lucky, there will be a few good, impactful yet transient connections along the way.
It is well worth noting that those traditionally regarded as wise men have always, even in this country where most people are chattering like magpies everywhere, preferred to avoid company and talk as little as possible ... so maybe I am on the road to wisdom. At least, it has been my practice to avoid talking except to those who are eager to listen, or are actually paying for it :) Circumstances have only accentuated the habit.
Dear Suvroda
When I see the "society" around me, I feel it is safer and saner to remain unsocial.
Regards
Tanmoy
It does seem that way, doesn't it? The sad thing is, though there has been always a lot of badness around, I seem to have heard from my elders that in their time there were also a lot of people whom it was easy to like, befriend and even admire and respect...
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