Pheerendsheep

It is KK singing “Yaaron …dosti….”

Once upon a time, long long back in INDIA…LOL…well, may be around seven or eight years ago, I had good many friends to fill up a diary. I used to pen in their details having addresses, DOB’s, phone numbers. It was required as i didn’t had a cell phone back then. I remember having more than three hundred on the list. I believed that bad or good, right or wrong, each one is as interesting as the other. I can claim that I had the ability to mingle well with any of the lot. Studious, sporty, doomed, frustrated, confused, smart, foolish, anti-socials etc were just nice flavors. I was genuinely interested in knowing someone, maintaining that and I enjoyed doing so. I never felt alone. I never had the time to plan to meet someone. They were all round and in numbers. My planned hours to freak out always used to get extended. I enjoyed the kind of networking I had. 

Today, my two hands are much more than what I actually need to count my friends list on my fingers. Not that I believe in numbers and give a damn about the material inside, but it really makes me think what’s wrong now or what was wrong. I am yet to figure out if it was or if it is. I don’t have any idea how I lost them all. They are all gone. Not a single from that list could make up to this one. And as I breathe, every second away, I feel none of these would make up to my next list. I wonder who all would it be with whom I would walk the very last of my days. Or is it that this is the last one I am ever going to have, with one or two worthy additions. I guess, that’s how it all is about life. One day you get it, you start living it and one day you put it in your pocket and move on, with thoughts of taking it out again some other day. Sometimes they do come out and sometimes they don’t.

Life is so fast. We are with so baggages. We change and strain and stretch ourselves so much. We are in so many games that it’s easy to put some in my pocket and carry on. And as I do so, I reconcile or reiterate to myself that a social networking site or a ten digit number stored on my cell or a mail id which I don’t even remember (Gmail or yahoo’s auto-complete feature coming to help) are a certain guarantee that I still have him/her as my friend. And with time, the person I knew fades, changes, grows or shapes into someone I can’t connect with.

It feels as if friends aren’t for real. It feels that the term friendship is overhyped. It certainly doesn’t sum up to that much as we always hope it would. Somewhere deep down we don’t have the required to see it till there.

P.N.: Readers are more than welcome to replace the word “We” with “I” in the last two lines and read it from my context.