Jon Westenberg wrote on a subject I too have been mulling over recently – It’s Sad When Someone You Know Becomes Someone You Knew – on people who have become footnotes in one’s life. I could relate to it, though I do think that many relationships have a context-based shelf life. I have written about this before – way back in 2007.
My recent thoughts on the subject, however, are on a couple of tangents. It’s about how people change across time, and the way we react to it. I’ve noticed that I tend to ‘freeze’ people at the last set of close interactions we’ve had, and be very surprised to realise they’ve changed. Silly but true! In some cases, it seems I have expected them to remain as-is even after a couple of decades, and get annoyed because I find it really hard to relate to their current version! [posts in 2008, 2009 (3rd para)] In other cases, I come across a person’s published work, or opinion, and ‘refuse’ (in my mind) to accept the excellent thought/nuanced perspective because I find it to be incompatible with my view of the person I had known! Someone I know had become someone I knew.
I had to make a trip to MG Road recently – Lavelle Road to be precise. I took the Metro and walked the rest. The area provides a neat snapshot of my professional life because I’ve held jobs across the marketing spectrum in offices on MG Road – brand (WorldSpace), publisher (TOI) and agency (GroupM). The travel agent I had to meet, meanwhile, has been occupying the same seat in his office during the 5 years we’ve been acquainted. His designation has remained unchanged as well. As I walked back after meeting him, I found myself asking how much really I have changed, and how much really has he remained unchanged.
There’s a photo of D & me, taken over 9 years ago, in front of the Taj Mahal. I remember that I had a bad headache – probably the first manifestation of my ‘travel headache day’ which has accompanied me on every trip since then! I am smiling, but since I have the information above, I can discern the tiredness in my eyes if I look closely. There are other nuances I can read in my expression too – a certain smug satisfaction of having seen the monument, for instance. But I can’t remember everything about me – my thoughts, emotions, feelings at the moment the photo was taken. The mind has compressed it all into a few pieces of information. I like to think of memories as a continuum, but it’s strange to realise that all I have is a series of snapshots with vast swathes of seeming nothingness in between. I am always someone I knew.
(via)