Sunday, July 19, 2015

Of Losing Friends—Phir Dekhiye

I am completely blank this weekend. I have no ideas on what to write today. For the last two-three days, I have read some really insightful writing on films. I know that each of us is different, but I have realized that I can never write with such layers and nuances, as much as I can try. As Haruki Murakami says, "Writing talent is similar to the art of chatting up a girl. You can improve to a certain degree through practice, but basically you are either born with it or you aren't.” This is making me suffer from a crisis of confidence. I have written about sixty pages, and feel like abandoning it because I feel it is not good. Seriously, how can people write in such beautiful prose? There was this one that I read on Kahaani, and I am simply stumped by the enrichment and the learning that I got from it. My writing, in comparison, is a piece of horse crap. I am not born with it. 

Mitali Saran wrote a splendid piece in the Business Standard on losing friends. She writes, "In my experience breaking up with a partner is like getting run over, but breaking up with a friend is like being chronically ill. You can remain friends with an ex-lover, but a friend who quits on you leaves a permanent hole. I have naturally drifted away from a number of people, and—since giving up on someone is easier than being given up on—I've deliberately walked away from at least one. But I have lost four friends unwillingly, and under wildly different circumstances, and felt wretched every time. Some have been closer to me than the others, some have been more acrimonious, some for incomprehensible reasons, but I've experienced each as an irreplaceable loss. The obverse of love is not hatred, but indifference. To move someone to loathing is, at least, to move them; indifference is erasure. The universe's well-established indifference to our silly little lives is, after all, so hideous that it is the origin of all the great parent-figure stories we know as religion. And yet, the only thing worse than losing a friend, is refusing them the courtesy of cherishing what they once were to you, and withdrawing your goodwill as an act of retaliation. That just piles misery upon misery. I don't know if I will ever fully master the art of letting someone go with grace, but I will keep trying."

I had been thinking of this myself since long. I was going through my Facebook timeline of the last three-four years in the day. Each phase had its own set of friends, from school to work place, but somehow, I have lost touch with almost all of them. I am hardly in touch with anyone; maybe I did not make the effort to be in touch with them. Slowly and slowly, friends drift apart. I had thought that I will be friends with some of them all my life; even from some of those, I have moved away. Some have got married, and are busy in their own world. The other factor is there is nothing common anymore. Earlier, we used to go to the same workplace or the same college, and talk about the same things, but now, everyone is at different places, so the bond of commonality is no longer there. They say that friendships that last seven years, last a lifetime. Somehow, I agree with it. Only those friendships last in which there is always something to share, that are not impacted by a lack of commonality, that require no explanations, and that in which friends listen to each other without any judgments. But there is one set of friends with whom I tried to maintain friendship but they did not, and it still hurts me. The words that Ms. Saran writes, resonate with me completely. It does leave a permanent hole. Losing a lover is painful, but losing a close friend is like losing an organ, it is irreparable. I have felt anger for unknown reasons, and tried to pretend that I don' care, but somewhere deep down, I do care. How can you forget with whom you have been friends all through your growing up in school, and then, suddenly cut them off from your life? Maybe that is why I face so many difficulties in making friends. I am an extremely formal person, behaving with formality even with the closest of friends. I guess it is a part of life, and it happens to everyone, and we should learn to let go gracefully. Maybe that is why all my favorite movies have an element of friendship in them. I listened to one of my favorite songs Phir Dekhiye from Rock On!! for the nth time, and it is a beautiful song. A group of friends reunited together to give one last performance together for their dying friend. There is something poignant about the statue of Buddha lying in the sea in the song. Perhaps, it refers to letting go like Buddha did, and to not let ego impact your relationships, and try to enjoy the small pleasures of life, and then, we might achieve salvation. Here's to friendship. 

Yaadon mein jiske,
Kisi ka naam hai,
Sapno ke jaise,
Uske har shaam hai,

Koi to ho jisse,
Apna dil dijeye,
Phir Dekhiye.

Khwaab bun ye zara,
Geet sun ye zara,
Phool chun ye zara, 
Phir Dekhiye.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Post a comment