Pritam's Blog
It’s The People… They’re The Problem
It’s been only four days since I came to my parents’ place and I already feel like it’s been months.
‘Hate’ is a strong word. Let’s just say I don’t like it here. This place, this town, the people here, I think they just don’t agree with me.
My therapist wanted me to dive deep into why I feel this way about this place. Upon giving it a superficial thought, I realized it’s because there’s nothing to look forward to. The crowd and cacophony and the hectic city life (even with WFH) that I am used to is missing here. But it’s not just about missing the city life. It’s more than that… Missing my life in Bangalore shouldn’t have been a good enough reason for this lack of attachment to the place I grew up in.
There should be, at least, a feeling of nostalgia. But it’s not there. Maybe once in a while, I remember something from my childhood with fondness but that feeling too is volatile and it vanishes into thin air, thereby, pointing out the pointlessness of it all.
It’s disturbing, isn’t it? Or maybe ‘disturbing’ is too strong a word. I just feel uncomfortable which eventually turns into a certain kind of numbness.
I think the lack of any strong feelings for this place I grew up in and for the people here stems from the fact that I have changed. That’s not a bad thing until people point it out and say it like it is…
“But you grew up here.”
“You seemed like a happy kid.”
“Did that happen? When? We don’t remember…”
“Well, we tried our best!”
I think people choose to remember only the version of you that they had control over. Doesn’t matter how long it has been or how much you have changed. They refuse to accept that it’s been a long time and that you have grown up because that would mean they have to give up the idea of controlling you.
My therapist says that it’s true and very common in Indian families, partly because the ethos of individualism disturbs our traditional power structure.
“But I am sure not everybody is like that,” she said. “Your childhood friends would be there., right?”
“Didn’t have many friends. And the few I had, I am not in touch with them. I can’t relate to them,” I said.
“I came across something very beautiful the other day. Let me read it to you,” she said and grabbed her cellphone. “You have to accept that some people are not made for deep conversations, or for holding you together when you’re about to fall apart, or for keeping you from unzipping your skin, or for talking you out of suicide, or to love you through the worst moments of your life. Some people are made for shallow exchanges, and ridiculous banter, and nothing more. And that’s okay. That doesn’t make them horrible people because they simply aren’t able to handle a storm like you. It doesn’t make you a bad person because you won’t divulge all the gritty details of your horror show. It makes you smart. You have to accept that there will be people that cannot give you what you need. It doesn’t mean they are not worth keeping in your life. You just have to figure out who these ones are before you’re disappointed. And you have to keep them at arm’s length. You cannot expect everyone in your life to understand, to be nonjudgmental, to get it. But that’s okay, because not everyone was made to impart wisdom, or wax-poetic, or speak on politics and the depravity of society, or discuss how crucial it is that the stigma of mental illness be abolished. There are times when you have to get away from all that heaviness. You have to. And you will need superficial conversation about Kim Kardashian’s arse, or a debate on the color of The Dress. You will need those ones. So don’t go round cutting people off and dropping your friends. You need people for all your seasons. You need people or you won’t survive this.”
“It’s nice. Also, I like Kim Kardashian’s ass,” I said.
“That’s your takeaway?”
“Nope. See, I don’t expect deep conversations from everyone. In fact, I have mastered the art of not taking it seriously, what someone is saying, even if they are close to me.”
“That too isn’t good, you know?”
“I know. But I have crunched the numbers too. A person, in their lifetime, comes across around 75,000 people. Out of them, around 150-200 people make it to their close social group. I feel that’s a very high number to handle. So, to maintain my sanity, I have to ignore most of what they say…”
“YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE 20 PEOPLE IN YOUR CLOSE SOCIAL GROUP,” she almost yelled.
“I know. It’s my choice. I am ok with it. My problem is with people.”
“And yet you pay to talk to me,” she said. I could sense a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.
“I make exceptions…”
“You do?”
“I just miss the anonymity that comes with living in big cities. And the vast option of food. Here, we don’t even have many restaurants.”
She smiled. And then we talked about what we’re reading these days.
I just love it when she gets the hint, the way she stops pushing me when I don’t want to talk about something.