Social

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?