Sunday evening thoughts
I suppose one confirmation of the oft-expressed line "man is a social animal" is the reaction to physical/social distancing. I mean the proliferation of personal video calls.
People we haven't thought about for years, much less willingly interacted with, are now popping up on laptop and phone screens all over the world. Many of them happen to be school or college mates. It's nice, for about 5 minutes. The plots run a predictable course. We ask how each other is doing, the situation in one's part of the country or world, how parents, spouses and kids are and throw in the usual litany about the horribleness of working from home. Then comes a pause; that visceral moment of awkwardness accompanied by dead air. In the real world, it's the point where we appreciatively reach for the beer glass. Or, in the absence of a suitable alcoholic distraction, involuntarily make circles in the ground with our toes and tunelessly hum out loud. On WhatsApp groups and even phone calls we can get away with it, pretending as if everything is right as rain. On a video call, I feel there's nowhere to hide from this awkwardness. Even if we excuse ourselves with a deft little manoeuvre, the enormity of our knowledge echoes long after we hang up.
It seems like, in that instant, people ought to accept a reality they've been suppressing for a long time - there isn't much to talk about simply because we outgrew each other. We may have shared institutions once upon a time. There may have been a city... a socio-cultural quilt that knitted us together. But, time does go by and the threads fray. At this very moment, 2 months into an indefinite pause in our lives, we may become maudlin about these relationships, these people. But, the truth of the matter is, our time's up when we are increasingly reluctant to make an effort once it stops becoming easy to hang out with these people. In fact, a great indicator of just who we value in our lives is who we will still go that extra kilometre for. Is there anything more horrible than being in a room with someone and discovering that silence is all that's left? Is there anything more crushing than knowing that there is no like or dislike, just indifference? Is there anything sadder than knowing all of this and holding on anyway?
This may be true of every single relationship we experience - family, friends or colleagues. In the great ocean of life maybe we are all fated to be ships in the night. We may meet again one day and renew these bonds. It's been known to happen. Usually thought, our worlds shrink, harden and crystallise into little gems, made all the more precious by the fact that there are so few genuine ones left in our desperately clenched fists when we need them the most. Now, for instance.
Song for the moment: Moon River - Audrey Hepburn
I suppose one confirmation of the oft-expressed line "man is a social animal" is the reaction to physical/social distancing. I mean the proliferation of personal video calls.
People we haven't thought about for years, much less willingly interacted with, are now popping up on laptop and phone screens all over the world. Many of them happen to be school or college mates. It's nice, for about 5 minutes. The plots run a predictable course. We ask how each other is doing, the situation in one's part of the country or world, how parents, spouses and kids are and throw in the usual litany about the horribleness of working from home. Then comes a pause; that visceral moment of awkwardness accompanied by dead air. In the real world, it's the point where we appreciatively reach for the beer glass. Or, in the absence of a suitable alcoholic distraction, involuntarily make circles in the ground with our toes and tunelessly hum out loud. On WhatsApp groups and even phone calls we can get away with it, pretending as if everything is right as rain. On a video call, I feel there's nowhere to hide from this awkwardness. Even if we excuse ourselves with a deft little manoeuvre, the enormity of our knowledge echoes long after we hang up.
It seems like, in that instant, people ought to accept a reality they've been suppressing for a long time - there isn't much to talk about simply because we outgrew each other. We may have shared institutions once upon a time. There may have been a city... a socio-cultural quilt that knitted us together. But, time does go by and the threads fray. At this very moment, 2 months into an indefinite pause in our lives, we may become maudlin about these relationships, these people. But, the truth of the matter is, our time's up when we are increasingly reluctant to make an effort once it stops becoming easy to hang out with these people. In fact, a great indicator of just who we value in our lives is who we will still go that extra kilometre for. Is there anything more horrible than being in a room with someone and discovering that silence is all that's left? Is there anything more crushing than knowing that there is no like or dislike, just indifference? Is there anything sadder than knowing all of this and holding on anyway?
This may be true of every single relationship we experience - family, friends or colleagues. In the great ocean of life maybe we are all fated to be ships in the night. We may meet again one day and renew these bonds. It's been known to happen. Usually thought, our worlds shrink, harden and crystallise into little gems, made all the more precious by the fact that there are so few genuine ones left in our desperately clenched fists when we need them the most. Now, for instance.
Song for the moment: Moon River - Audrey Hepburn
Comments