Notes On Misanthropy And ‘Fictioning’

“I CANNOT WRITE FICTION! I literally hate talking to people!”, yelled B.

“I CANNOT WRITE FICTION! I literally hate talking to people!”, yelled B.

“What has writing fiction or NOT writing fiction got to do with talking to people?” T looked at B half quizzically.

“I’d explain it to you, if you’d even half understand what I’d mean.”- B

“Try”, said T.

“I cannot meet people if I’m not in the set up I first met them in… Friends from Delhi keep flocking here, where I live; I cancel out on them. These are important people I’m talking about by the way. People who’ve given me a home back in Dilli, who indulged me when I went for a hurried trip! I just cannot seem to help myself. I cannot explain shit here.” – B

“You have been in this city for almost three years now, yet you refuse to use your Kolkata number! You spend like mad on your roaming telephone! You are so faackin hungover with Delhi… Seems like you are in a permanent state of exile here, you are nostalgic about a place you once hated, and now you cannot stop thinking of some of the good days you spent there; AND YET, you “cancel out” on these so called important people coming from Dilli. Why? You cancelled out on Rony this time she was here. Why would you tell her you were travelling, and spend so much money living in a guest house in this God forsaken city, when all you needed to do, was be a little sociable for maybe three days, with your own twin sister!!!” T stated lividly.

“People bore me. Well, if I were really artistic, I’d put it that way.

Ok, wait. If I told you, I do not like people tugging at me, when I don’t want them tugging at me, would I be sounding insane?

I miss everything or maybe most things about being back in Dilli, a few people too, yes.

But, that would hardly mean that I’d want to see them again. I NEVER MEAN IT WHEN I SAY I’M MISSING SOMETHING. However, if I am really missing anything, I can keep feeling that way until it stops. I do not like the same moments occurring again and again in life. If I actually decided to be sociable with Rony, I would hang out with her, she would Instagram some photos, we’d spill some coffee, bitch about stuff, and that’d be it. As compared to a day in this guest house, or a day, where I would be able to sit by myself, in a quiet place, meet an absolutely NEW somebody, move forward in life. People I already know, become my past the moment I’ve known them for a bit. I do not like looking back, quite literally.” came B’s retort.

T- “I am beginning to believe that you may be suffering from depression, but I’m not quite sure, since you don’t exactly lock yourself up and write songs all day long. YOU are busy, for sure, and you are fierce. But, I remember you being needy too, what the hell happened…”

B cuttingutting T short – “AND, I lie a lot! No body would ever know for sure if I like them or not. Well, it doesn’t matter, since they would always have another person who likes them for sure, anyway. Coming back to the point, I lie to people about my availability. A Kolkattan would never know I’m here as much as a Dilli waala visiting Kolkata would, even if they were to see me.

What is funny is, I don’t even do this to avoid these people. I hate people in general – yes. But I don’t need to avoid these people who I already love so very much!

I just cannot seem to small talk my life. I hate Fiction-ing things, if you will.”

About the guest author

Bonnie

Thinks pound size, delivers nuggets. Looketh like a Junkie, but loves onions. Self exiled workaholic, doesn't mind calling a 'kulfi', a 'kulfi'.