The Inability to Stay in Touch

My Facebook feed is flooded with pictures. People getting engaged, people getting married, people having babies. In all of these photos, the persons in question aren’t alone. They are surrounded by loved ones. Family, of course, but also friends.

Back in school, we all had our cliques, some bigger than others. One of the biggest cliques comprised about 15 girls. Many of them were the most popular kids. One would imagine that since there were so many of them, with time, they would fall apart. Boy, was I mistaken.

Over the past 11 years since we’ve been out of school, many of these girls have celebrated milestone occasions such as the ones described above. Amazingly, most, if not all, of the other girls were present for those occasions. Sometimes, it was something much smaller – like a birthday, for instance – that brought these girls together.

And it’s not just them. They stood out because they were so many and yet they managed to come together for each other after all these years (many of them live outside India but amazingly, manage to show up at these events). But there are several other people I have watched over the years, who have managed to hold on to their old friendships. Flying across oceans seemed to be no hindrance to be present at a close friend’s wedding.

And yet, I haven’t been able to do any of these things. I like to think of myself as someone who cares about her friends. A lot. Sometimes more than is good for myself. But a while ago, I realized this was only true in the present. Two years ago, my best friend from school got married. And I didn’t show up for her wedding. Granted, it was a bad time as far as my career was concerned and, had that not been the case I probably would have flown down, but it seems a meagre excuse for a person with whom I once shared such a deep bond.

It’s not just about not showing up. I have been unable to remain in touch with more than two or three people from school. Even those are vague Facebook connections, with not a single phone conversation or even a Skype session shared in the years that I have been overseas. In the early years since leaving school, we made an effort to meet once in a while, but that didn’t last long.

It was the same with other groups. My SDIPA gang, for instance. Yes, we chat over WhatsApp once in a while, but I have no real idea about what’s going on in the lives of all my dance buddies – that is, no real idea besides the “How are you? I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

University was much the same. I’ve stayed well connected with exactly one person from Uni. Yes, one. That was probably more because I needed constant support and someone to bitch to until not too long ago, when I was having a difficult time in life. The rest have faded into the background of sketchy Facebook messages or once in a blue moon WhatsApp messages.

So it really got to me. Am I a terrible person for being unable to stay in touch with anybody for long? That is not to say I don’t devote myself completely to the friendships I have in the present. I do, but once the dynamics of those connections change, usually because of distance, I lose touch. Every single time.

I wonder if some of us are just meant to be like that – wholly present in the here and now, but with nary a trace remaining once out of sight. I don’t know. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person, an uninvolved person, or just… another person.

This is quite a pointless rant. But as I just learnt yesterday, stories don’t necessarily have to have a beginning, middle and end. They can just continue on for as long as we live, because stories are, literally, a slice of life and we keep living them, adding layer upon layer. Every single day.