LIFE AND LIES #66 | Talks A Lot

His talking a lot was not the problem. The problem was that I didn't get to participate in the conversation. I was listening to a soliloquy.

We were not best of buddies, but he was a friend nonetheless. We seldom met. I could not offend him by telling him to shut up. Therefore, I got myself a routine. At regular intervals, I bobbed my head in polite affirmation and gave an occasional smile when all I was doing was staring in the distance at random people passing by. In college, I had attended many lectures where my mind just wandered off while my eyes remained focused on the lecturer. Being able to do the same thing with my friend in such proximity was a commendable skill that no resume/CV had a column for.

I wondered if he knew what I was doing but still chose to go on. But why would he do that? Or maybe he was as doubtful as I was. The best explanation would be that he became oblivious to everything when he droned on. My resolve weakened at times. I ran out of made-up expressions. Therefore, I tried to butt in, trying to start a conversation in which both of us could participate, something that concerned both of us. But, no! He thwarted every such attempt of mine by interrupting me and resuming himself. I am not much of a talker myself. Hence, I gave in and went back to my old routine.

Somewhere along, I noticed a stain on his shirt. I pointed it out. And the very next moment, I regretted doing that. Pointing out the stain brought forth a fresh barrage of comments involving his previous maid and how she turned out to be a total loss.

I was left in a state of wonderment: how could this man bring out a story at a random turn of a conversation? As a writer, I was torn between envy and admiration.

Later on, after we went on our separate ways, I couldn't help thinking that if God made someone to compensate for my taciturnity, it was him. And He, in his desperation, overshot what He was aiming for.

***

Liked what you read? Leave a comment!

Comments

LIFE AND LIES #100 | The Blurred Lines

Nitin was utterly shocked when he woke up on Saturday morning with a hangover and without any recollection of what had transpired the previous night. He had been drunk before. He had lost all of his senses before. But everything always came back to him the next morning. However, that day, it didn't; complete blackout. There must have been something bizarre in that drink. Over the course of the week, though, he started remembering flashes of it and began looking for an opportunity to talk to Sandhya, sober and alone. The weather had taken a sharp turn today. A sweltering sunny day gave way to a cloudy evening with thrashing winds. As everyone raced to the office window to watch the scene unfolding outside, Nitin saw Sandhya signalling to him by pressing two fingers to her lips. He couldn’t help but smile. She knew he loved to smoke in this weather. After all, she was his smoking partner in the office. Together, they went downstairs, but as soon as they stepped out of the building, t...

LIFE AND LIES #77 | The English Teacher

When we are young, the world is full of possibilities. We can do anything, and become anything. We antagonise anyone who even hints at thinking otherwise about us. It's probably why most of us have a story to tell where the villain was a school teacher. Even I do. I don’t remember exactly how I ended up in the Headmaster’s cabin that day. All I remember is that back then I blamed my House Master for it. It wasn’t just me who had bunked the STD XII Pre-Board exams. There were many. But he made a scapegoat out of me. And the moment, I set foot inside the cabin, I received a big slap from the Headmaster. My ears rang. But that wasn’t the worst thing that happened that day. The Headmaster instructed him to call my father. Tell him to come or his son would be rusticated. I wasn’t a notorious student. I was good in my studies and had no disciplinary complaints against me. Had this incident not occurred, I would have completed my schooling in a few months with a clean record. My fat...

Whispers and Words #1

*** Finding solace In an air-conditioned space, The city slept While I wandered the streets, Restless, Perfecting the ending Of a sentence. The cool breeze made me forget That it was a summer night. Then, out of nowhere, A cold whisper Sent a shiver down my spine. "You have to choose, my friend. Be a writer or be content." "Why can't I be both?" I asked the emptiness. And the whisper scoffed at me, "You and your consistent pursuit To get the best of both worlds. Buckle up then! You are about to be tested." I stumbled over a rock And found the ending I was looking for. "If a river wants to meet the sea, Twisting and turning, It will somehow find its way Even through the mountains." If a whisper could smile, It did, and said, "We will see." *** I don't have a million readers - not by choice, obviously - just a handful. But they mean to me as much as the millions would do. And one of those readers reminded me that I had taken a lon...

Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

Search This Blog