10 Sep I don’t hate my friends, though
I first checked it up. Indeed, there does exist a quote by Tom Baker. It goes thus… “Friends are like lighthouses, with the sources of light coming from their hearts.”
Here I review the lighthouses in my life.
I have a couple of souls – indeed lighthouses – who do wonders to my wellbeing. Spending just a few minutes with them, even if it is over the phone, gets me kicking and rearing to surge. Their light, indeed, transcends and lifts me. God Bless them!
I have a few other dimhouses whom I spent hours on end and remain unmoved and untriggered. I grope hard to find anything substantial in our talks that I could use to justify the time spent.
Yet there are a couple of darkhouses who sap my energy within seconds of our interaction. They leave me mentally and emotionally exhausted. I don’t make an effort to even analyse the conversations.
But I am friends with all the above types. It doesn’t matter to me how well their hearts are lit or how much of light their toes emit. They are friends alright.
There is one other category, I identified recently. Torch-bearers. Since they focussed on my passion, I involved them without much ado. And…
Here’s what happened…
The first person – I considered a dear friend for almost four years. We spoke at length regularly. Even shared a few secrets. But when my book happened she ‘knew better’. How I should have done it, how I should go forward, whom I should speak to henceforth… she even prophesied my career if I were to ignore her instructions. Soon suggestions and advices turned into orders and commands that quickly became abusive. I was forced to walk off.
The second person – Befriended me while I was promoting my book. A man of words, he impressed me with his knowledge, an illustrious career graph, revolutionary social thoughts and constructive criticism of my work. He tirelessly encouraged me to pen more with inspiring anecdotes, while he etched out plans to broaden my reach. However, by the end of the third month into our friendship, his calls became uncomfortably frequent. Never mind. I said, he’s well read. Then, his comments turned suggestive. I pulled the plug.
The third person – A senior who has known me for the last five years. We shared thoughts on poetry. Every conversation we’ve had, he promised me to do all he could to see my writings get noticed. Even as I had been alerted that he is a misogynist, I chose to give our friendship a chance for two reasons: Seniority. He’s a seasoned journalist [I will continue to respect him as a professional who knows his job]. Two: His promise of guiding me in my endeavour. Even after my book was published, he did answer my calls. But the moment we got past exchanging pleasantries, he got busy and asked me to call another time. Date and time at his convenience. I repeated the act a dozen times. I have deleted his contacts.