I ask for a table for two. I know I am alone but I also know
that they won’t take me seriously if I say so. Who comes to Social alone?
The question itself is paradoxical. Why am I here anyways? Why did I choose
Social? What was I expecting? Deepika to turn up? Knowing well that she won’t;
can’t. But a dreamer is allowed such delusions.
The moment I enter this place, I fall in love with it. The
Social of the Hauz Khas Village Delhi is in a dilapidated building with a
laid-back ambiance. I would have loved it even if were a library. But I
couldn’t have had a drink in a library. The server gives me a table which is in
between two bigger tables. On my left are three girls making animated
conversations and on my right, are two couples digging into their mobile
phones. I pity the couples. Here I am, alone, imagining a conversation with
Deepika and there they are lost in their digital world, ignoring their
companions.
I settle down and some members from the adjacent groups give
me a look smilingly. I try to find unread messages
on my phone till my drink arrives. There are none. But I keep gaping at it. Am not interested in
having a conversation. Am not interested in returning that impassive
air-hostess like smile. Am not interested in just looking back and
acknowledging their presence. I just want to be alone. Feel alone. And the
mobile helps.
One thing I like about mobile phones is their ability to
make you look busy when you are not. They can make you look busy when you are
not interested in making a conversation like in a train or some common waiting
room or for that matter in a bar, just like now. They can make you look busy at
a party or at a business event where nobody knows you. They can make you look
busy when you want to avoid a fight. These are the times when you read that
message for the eighth time and continue looking busy. Luckily my drink arrives
and bails me out.
I happen to get a place where Ranveer (Ved) and Deepika (Tara)
converse in the film Tamasha. The
same spot! The scene recreates itself in front of my eyes and I drift. I think
of Ved who is trying to reclaim his authentic self. I quite liked the movie. Its
relatable. I know so many people like Ved. I meet them when they are taking a
break or when they are alone or with someone they can connect with. They laugh
heartily, express articulately and voice opinions and share outrage. And then I
see them at their workplace or at their home and I see different people. They
will barely make eye contact and will have a closed body language. Ved is
everyone who has built a fortress around himself. He lives in a shell and doesn’t
come out in an environment that is hostile to his impulse.
As I think about all this, I get restless. The soothing
ambiance becomes exasperating. I sense the fellow drinkers staring at me. Lots
of questions gaggle me like eager cocker spaniels. How do we react when we are
challenged by love? What do we do when our marriage needs more of us that we
are used to sharing? How do we respond when we have children and we discover
that we have inadequate energy and skills to cope? And quitting jobs, moving
homes, deciding to choose a new role at work?
Do we feel vulnerable and not in control? Are we blaming the
choices or are we accepting them? Are we thinking of reversing them, just like Ved
did in the film?
P.S - Do you know Ved?
