A Convenient Truth

(Published in Zeitgeist, The New Indian Express, dated 31st October, 2009)

There are some of us left, in this world that could end by 2012, who wish it would survive long enough for people to learn to nurture their neuroses rather than pour out their deep, dark confessions in an inexhaustible flow.

We don’t have roommates because we can’t bear to listen to them crib about boyfriends and parents. We start blogs in an effort to reduce human-to-human verbal contact. Our status on gtalk is nearly always ‘Invisible’. We were among the last to buy mobile phones and convert most of our incoming calls to messages that read, “Sorry I missed your call. Was in the shower. At a friend’s party now, text me if it’s important?”

Oh, we never go to parties, and Havana, Dublin and Q-BA are geographical names to us.

But to the world, we also have a titular moniker – “the good listeners.”

We never talk, and so we’re always called out to coffee breaks during office hours, so our colleagues can whine uninterrupted about their husbands, children, jobs, pimples, eyebrows, hair fall, receding hairlines, unrequited love etc..

Our best displays of uninterestedness have quite the opposite effect.

Display of uninterest: “I’m sorry, what?”
Response: “Yes, can you believe that! You heard right, he actually said that!”

Display of uninterest: (Makes poor attempt at hiding elaborate yawn and mumbles “sorry”)
Response: “I’ve been having hiccups all morning too. That means someone is thinking of you! Whom do you think it could be? In my case, it’s…”

Display of uninterest: (Begins detailed study of contours on the back of own palm.)
Response: “Oh, you do that too? You know, they say you can always tell a woman’s age by studying the back of her palm. And in our industry, it’s so important to look young. You know, but once, someone thought…”

And it spills over to the phone. Where most normal human beings’ unnatural silence would prompt enquiries as to the strength of the signal, disturbance on the line, soundness of one’s hearing etc. etc., the reticence of the “good listeners” is simply a foil to the outpourings of the interlocutor’s soul.

What’s even more annoying than the mega-serial-like histrionics of an interlocutor’s personal life is a ball-by-ball update of the subtle changes in the environs of the interlocutor.

There are these Compulsive Interlocutors who watch their phones like mousetraps. You send them a text apologising for not being available, and the next thing you hear is a ring.

“Hiiiiii! You’ve been ignoring me!” says the Compulsive Interlocutor.

“With good reason,” you reply, only half-ironically.

“Oh, I have so much to tell you. Yesterday…oh, Anjana has bought a new mobile phone. Anjana! Anjana!!! Come here…it’s kind of like mine, but you know, I think it’s a different colour…oh my God, they’re bringing new chairs into the office…show me your mobile…yeah, it’s kind of like mine, but it’s a different colour…let’s compare the…”

“Hey, why don’t you compare your panels and call me back later?”

“No, no, hang on a sec, I’ll get my hands free on…I’m talking to Nandini, and she’s getting irritated because I’m carrying on a parallel conversation…why do you think they’re bringing new chairs?...Yeah, the panel is different…”

But the magnitude of the problem struck me only recently, when a hitherto not-too-solicitous colleague texted me an enquiry as to whether I’d reached my vacation spot safely, and the statuses of my personal health and the health of my family.

My reply was followed by “Miss u a lot. Bad day @ ofc.”

It was at that moment that I took a stand for all Good Listeners across the world and texted back, “Don’t worry about office. Unhealthy to think about it when you’re away.”

The reply was a historical triumph: “Ya, u rt. Swtch off ur fone and relax.”