Everything Matters

It always matters. People might say that it doesn’t and proclaim that they don’t care but they do. They’ll never admit it because some believe owning up to some things (especially when the equation of emotions is involved) it will expose a long hidden weakness in them. So they pretend to walk through the world as if nothing can bother them. That even if something bad, or something they do not like happens they’re beyond caring about it. They believe themselves to be high and above such trivial things. I wouldn’t say it’s the wrong attitude <because in recent times I’ve come to learn that there’s nothing called the ‘right’ choice – it’s always a matter of perspective and one’s own mind – and like Jack Sparrow – Captain Jack Sparrow – says “It’s what a man can do and what a man can’t do”>. It’s more of the feeling you get when you’re around such people. Most of the time it is considered to be haughty and even inhumane, but what they fail to understand is that pretending to not care about something helps deal with the matter. Talking about it might only make it worse for them, and in silence they find their own strength to come to terms with it. And yes. They might say it doesn’t matter. Because it always matters.

I didn’t mean to make it sound as serious as it seems above…it all came about when I was thinking of the people I miss spending time with. We never said ‘I miss you’…we kind of ended everything with ‘I’ll see you soon’ or at least with the hope of meeting soon enough, but never explicitly said that we would miss each other. This I mean in the context of some of my closest friends through my schooling days to my days of my engineering studies. And the ‘missing’ part is specifically intended for those friends of mine that I was close to a very long time ago and lost touch with. Except the occasional birthday when we would make the obligatory phone call. But that’s it. But lately, I’ve been receiving messages. Phone calls. After months and in some cases even years, of not having met or spoken to them, there seems to have established between us a line of contact. A line that originated from the other side and worked its way towards me. They said they didn’t care, so I let it go. Well let go in the sense of the fact that I never initiated any method of contact with them because that’s what they seemed to want at the time. But now I realize even though that’s what they wanted, it wasn’t what they had needed. Some part of the time we all spent together remained. It lingered in our memories. I wrote about it, materialized and personified them into the words of a story or part of my blog posts of my diary entries. Always. They never wrote about it or spoke about it but now suddenly, we’re in touch again. Within arms reach of each other. No, we still haven’t met because only three of us are in the same country, but we talk. SMSes and emails. Phone calls are rare because most of us are working now, as software engineers (that’s about three of us), journalists (two long lost friends are currently working as junior reporters <they get mad when I call ‘em cub reporters> for a magazine – one a ‘gossip’ type and the other concerned with sports – dunno that names though…they’re not even in the country anymore!!), another is interning at an event management company while doing his masters in business management (even he doesn’t believe he is capable of ‘managing’ – yeah, the klutz that he was!! – and it’s so nice to see him unbelievably distressed and proud by that!! Way to go J’ee’F !! Happy for you, man!), two others are leaning towards becoming psychiatrists (promising me free services because I need it) and the last is touring the world (not really sure what she’s up to but I’m pretty sure it’s in sync with her hobby of photographing everything that falls in the path of her lenses). That’s the mismatched group we were. Actually come to think of it, we never were a group group. Just a bunch of people who used to live an parallel streets and played together as children; and they’re all older than me, which makes me the little freaky baby in the bunch of nine. Oh blah! It just feels nice to know that none of that has changed. I still vividly remember the shock I was in last week when the first message came.

Quote: -

‘Hi!! I don’t expect you to remember me, but if you do then SPIFFING gal!!  *smiley, smiley, smiley* Livin’ and lovin’ life. Found your number somewhere…decided to re-establish the connection. Ping me. <break> Still with the Count of Transylvania? Stoker should’ve included you in his book…well, don’t mind me but I believe you haven’t forgotten him. You will forever live in random insanity! *smiley* XXX-OOO’

I freaked. Literally freaked. WTF?!?!?! The questions came rushing. I knew EXACTLY who it was the moment I saw the word ’spiffing’ followed by ’smiley, smiley, smiley’. I’ve never known anyone else who has a greater repulsion for ’smiley’ faces, so yes, I figured who it was that instant. I didn’t know where my number was found, and to be honest though I was suspicious of the source, I didn’t care much. What really had me stupefied was the ‘Count of Transylvania’ – a reference, as some might have guessed seeing the name ‘Stoker’ in the following sentence, to Count Dracula <that the person who sent me the SMS has more pointed canines, and when he gives that lopsided grin looks a teeny weeny bit related to the Count is important but irrevelant>. Most of my early acquaintances are fully aware of my fascination of vampires and the Count. Purely mythical interest I assure you, especially after I read Bram Stoker’s book in the eighth grade. I mellowed ranting that I wanted fangs too when I realized that people freaked at the thought of finding vampires nice. Call it co-incidence, but it freaked me out more because I’m reading the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer right now (I’m 50 pages away from completing New Moon) and it’s got the breath-taking vampire Edward Cullen – yeow wee !! I’m drooling right now, I can promise you that much – and I happen to get a message from a person I’ve had no contact with in over three years, inquiring after the Count. Yes. I truly, abso-effing-lutely freaked. Intuition?? I dunno!! This was the person I have known and seen sober, drunk, spitting mad, horrendously delighted, horrifyingly sad, unemotionally cold, hard as stone, unwittingly intelligent, nerve-racking hilarious,  maddeningly stupid, and so brilliantly unattached. I took my time replying to the text because I had to convince myself that it was real and not my imagination playing tricks on me.

I was still getting over the initial disbelief, when I received the next e-mail and phone call. From two others. The same unchanged greeting we used a long time ago, the same unformatted method of writing cluttered with heavy words and written in English people used in the 18th century and the same low deep voice respectively. I almost screamed!! Where had these people been for so long?? Where had I been for so long?? We obviously had moved on, but we hadn’t forgotten!! And it was all so new, hearing from them again, yet something so natural to see those words and hear the voice… No this is not a story line, it’s real. The story of my life in the past few weeks. The whole unaltered truth. Facts. Bound by un-circumstantial evidence. And what’s more? There was living proof that this wasn’t all some strange cruel dream.

It is the truth that I’ve been a little off-beat lately. Speaking the bare minimum with people, resisting any attempt to go out and ‘just hang’. I’ve been keeping to myself and my books of late. It’s like not being alone but feeling lonliness and still being content. <Yes, I did fall on my head as a baby and it’s affecting me now, because shock therapy didn’t work.> So when I heard from them I didn’t know how to react. My senses were numb. I swear to God they were cold and unfeeling. I didn’t know what to feel. Elated? Sad? Grateful? The jumbled up ball of nerves burst and I spent many nights pondering over my life – friends in particular. We went our own ways. We parted at the cross roads, each moving on towards their calling in life. Then, thirty six months down the line and within a time span of a week, three of them had contacted me. In the most casual way, the most comfortable manner – the manner that we are all so used to. The manner that, I’m sure, we all missed. The two guys never admitted it, but it explicitly – all they said was, “Yes, we had fun. Those were the days.” – one over an SMS and the other on the phone <I could make out the hint of sadness and guilt in his voice>. But Leah..:D Ha! The emotional sweetheart apologized!! Why? I dunno, because the way I see it I have as much blame they have for not keeping in touch. Bing Gal Pal! <it’s our little secret!! Always!!>

Here I sit wondering the same things I’m sure are going through their minds. We spent a good part of our childhood together as the little hooligans of the area, and everyone absolutely loved us for the little angels we were <I do not appreciate that I was always the goal-keeper and never the striker, thank you very much, but I still enjoyed every bit of it, guys>. Back to my point of everything mattering. It all always does. Forget the fights, the tears, the laughter and the goodbyes. At the end of the day, somewhere down the long road that life takes us on it all comes back. It matters that they called/messaged. It matters that I was shocked to stupidity by it. It matters that though we are not the ‘best of friends’ – owing to our ability to stomp and pick fights over nothing – we are close friends. We understand each other so much that all it takes is one word to re-establish that connection that lay dormant for a long time. I don’t know what the chances of us seeing each other again are; because the chances of contact discontinuing is higher; but here we are once again. Caught in the web that once spun around us and still managed to keep us there. Yes, it feels good. Really good. For now it’s enough.

P.S. This post is issued in the public interest of my Count look-alike <you sure you ain’t related to him, dude?>, Leeee and L.J. <gee, ya still have the tattoo, right?> !! And the other five who are hanging around at different corners of the world waiting for the long awaited ‘telephone marathon’ !!