10/09/2014 by Siddiqui Fayesal
I recently went through an experience which I can call an eye opener. I have too many friends. Not that I am complaining but it does seem like an impediment at times. Not that I don’t like them, I love each and every one of them in one capacity or another. The problem arises when my universes clash.
My friends to me are like my slices of life that I share with them. While to some it might mean company, to me it means experiences. I’m a hoarder of memories. I have certain things that I can relate to, kept neatly in my cupboard. So, every time my eye catches them sitting in my drawer I remove them and go through it all in my mind. I have known for some time now that I am one of those who cherishes the past, accepts the present and am wary of the future.
I have ballpoint pens that were left over from our Export Marketing project from college. That would be around 6 years old. I have it clearly labeled to know which pen belonged to whom and so when I see them I know what and whom I’m thinking of. The pens are merely 6 years old. I have older stuff sitting inside. Sometimes it is as mundane as a newspaper that I bought from a place on a particular date. I have ‘almost’ empty perfume glass bottles and crushed soft drink plastic bottles. I have the denims I wore the very first day of college; it’s ripped at the knees so I don’t wear it anymore but it’s there.
Anyway, the point is that to me my relation with every friend is distinct and clearly demarcated. I never planned it this way, but I have realized that I am an almost different person with a few of them. If the two Siddiquis meet it’ll be nothing but pandemonium for my friends. So, when my universes clash I have a problem of behavior and of sharing.
Like mentioned, I am a different person to a different friend so when they meet, it sometimes, creates a problem. It is inevitable to share stories, to tell anecdotes and to revel in common experiences.
Then suddenly, divergent stories crop up. I don’t share every aspect of my life with all friends; I have a very distinct filter in my head. There are only 3 to 4 friends who know me inside out, who know my darkest secrets, who can successfully second guess my responses. Letting them inside of my psyche isn’t a fluke. So when stories are swapped there is always an exclamation when one psyche meets another, when one Siddiqui holds out to another and it places me in a situation I would rather stay away from. It’s not that I am a secret slob or a closet communist that I am afraid to open up to all. It’s all a matter of confidence and the level of comfort. I really don’t know how my head works out the detail but it does.
And it does it well.
I recently had a long chat with a friend (let’s call her Missy) about this clashing universe phenomenon and how I was afraid that X and Y will become better friends and I would be gradually sidelined. I later realized that X and Y, both, are very good friends and the possibilities of being sidelined is nonexistent. But while I was chatting with Missy, I opened up too. To make your vulnerabilities known takes courage and especially so when done with intent. Missy was a great shoulder to cry on and despite feeling weak at that moment of time; it was an experience I will cherish.
Sometimes I feel this kind of soft sensitivity un becomes a man.
Missy tells me otherwise. I’m going along with that!