In Conversations

Going to book launches, readings and seminars had become routine for Sowmya. During her initial days of internship with a publishing house, she would look forward to meeting renowned writers, journalists and critics. She had hoped that meeting these people will give a head start to her career as an editor and to her aspiration as a budding writer. But after attending the initial few parties and gatherings, the sparkling stars in her eyes began to fade away. She soon realized that it took more than just social connections to either establish a credibility or to get some attention. Being the silent pensive sorts, striking a conversation was always a challenge for her, yet she tried and tried in all earnestness. Unfortunately, albeit not surprisingly, all her attempts at making someone read her manuscripts had failed miserably. Thus, over time, she had started confining herself to silent corners of these rooms, from where she could get a good view of the event and an easy access to food and beverages.

On this particular day too, she sat perched up on a highchair, right next to the drinks counter. Her eyes moving across the length and breadth of the room, little absentmindedly, seeing everything, but noticing almost nothing. In one corner of the room, a prominent writer sat, whose book was being launched today, hurriedly signing off copies for enthusiastic buyers. All across the room people stood in small groups of three or four. From literary debates to intellectual stimulation, the room was reverberating with their ideas and opinions.

Sitting alone in her quiet corner, Sowmya was inhaling the voices and thoughts. For initial moments she didn’t notice but her eyes rested on a smiling face. Engrossed in her own thoughts, she didn’t realize when the smile captivated her attention. It was only when the face turned towards her with a radiating smile and a nod that she regained consciousness. She felt embarrassed about staring at a stranger, and quickly turned her attention to the person behind the counter, requesting a refill.

When she again turned around, the face had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Not seeing it, Sowmya was half relieved, and half disappointed. She was almost lost in her thoughts again, when a sudden burst of laughter from a group close-by caught her attention. And there it was again, the same face and the same smile. Their eyes met yet again, and this time Sowmya turned towards her phone to escape the gaze.

Unfortunately for Sowmya, or fortunately as she thought later, looking away didn’t help her for long. Within the next couple of minutes, she found him right next to her, with an extended hand, “Hi, my name is Nishant. I saw you sitting here alone, so thought of offering my companionship for some time.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry, I wont charge you for it.” He was still smiling, and now Sowmya couldn’t prevent herself from reciprocating the gesture. As is always, next few minutes were spent in exchanging brief curriculum vitae, discovering how both had a passion for writing, and how they get inspired by their surroundings, situations and most importantly people. People, with their reactions, their perspectives, their expectations and aspirations, and all these weaving into the fabric of their life.

By this time the event was moving towards a closure. Only a last few buyers were left, waiting for their signed copies. Many from the audience had exited the building. The remaining were huddled closer to the exist gates, dragging their feet much slower than they were dragging their conversations. Staff from the venue had started wrapping up the décor and other furniture. Soumya and Nishant also picked up their belongings and started walking towards the nearest coffee shop. By now both had realized that they still had lot to talk about. As they settled in the coffee shop, Nishant picked up the leftover pieces of conversation.

“Yes, I am a conversationalist. And it is what I do for a living. Its my passion and profession too.” A conversationalist? What did it mean? And how can anyone be a professional conversationalist? Why would someone pay for just a conversation? How many people can you talk to? And on how many varied topics? And writing? Is that not your profession? Questions were obvious and were in plenty. So Nishant continued.

 

“While reading and writing have always been my hobbies, what I really enjoyed doing was getting into a variety of conversations. Conversations that fed me with ideas, provoked my thinking and left me with multitude of themes to mull over. During student days I had many friends, each with a different area of interest and a different ambition in life. I used to connect with them all, individually and regularly, feeding from their minds and thoughts, nourishing and enriching my own thoughts in the process.

It was during this same time that I started reading about human psychology. Unraveling the mysteries of why and how people react, when they do. Though it was not part of my core curriculum, I spent vast number of hours, reading the works of great philosophers, sociologists and psychologists. At that time, I was regularly writing for school and college magazines, and a few independent publications.

My writings were primarily derived from the lives and stories of my friends and also reflected my readings. Without sounding boastful I can say, the initial writings were well received within my small world. My peers and seniors appreciated my grasp and understanding of human emotions. This encouragement boosted my morale. After completing my basic education, I applied for an advance course in psychology and was even selected. Thus, started my actual rendezvous with society and its emotional quotients.   

Even before I earned my degree I knew very well that neither clinical nor experimental psychology were my forte. The writer in me was too wild and too free to get regimented with the asks of a predefined profession. I could easily express my observations, capture their essence and reflect them vividly through the characters of my stories. However, the same observations seemed lackluster and uninteresting if described through an experiment, backed by scientific methodology and statistical derivations. I don’t intend any dis-respect towards science and its approach to live. It just wasn’t my cup of tea.

To make a living I started practicing clinical psychology, but soon found my thoughts and my ability to help my patients getting restricted when attempted within those four walls. Slowly I started meeting people in coffee shops, malls and sometimes even parks. Surprisingly, it helped both parties. I found people were more willing to talk and were more expressive in open environments. It was like meeting and talking to a friend, but without the fear of leaving a negative impression. In many cases people would only describe their problems factually when they met me in the clinic, but literally poured their hearts out when meeting in an informal setup.

Most people would come to me through referrals. While no one wants to admit that they have met a psychologist, it was easy to refer a ‘friend’ who can talk. Around the same time some of my writings – both articles and narratives were published in different magazines. Reading them too a few contacted me. Combining the two experiences, I started positioning myself as a ‘Conversationalist’.

“So essentially you are a psychologist?” asked Sowmya after a brief pause. “And a writer too!”

“No. I am not.” Nishant continued. “By training I am also a certified life-coach. But as a person and as a professional, I am just a conversationalist.

You know, over the years I have figured out that people don’t need advice. They don’t even need solutions to their problems. They just need a sound-board. You give them an opportunity to get their emotions out of their bottlenecks, and most find their way forward.

Honestly, now I have stopped advising people. I may share my point of view regarding their situations. But that is more for reflective listening or thinking aloud, all as part of a good healthy conversation. I don’t give them any kind of advice, neither medically nor philosophically. And you might be surprised, it works absolutely fine for majority of them.

People meet me to have good conversations. To talk about things they cant share with others. For example, recently I met a youngster who wanted to start a new venture. Coming from a traditional business community, his family wanted him to stay within family business only. He met me a couple of times, only to gather the strength to embark on this journey. I had neither an understanding of the industry, nor do I have any experience with start-ups. All he was looking for a person with whom he could share what he couldn’t share with his family.

There are many such examples, domestic tussles, work-life balance, career aspirations etc. Such topics are not life threatening, nor need a medical intervention if addressed in time. But many don’t find friends or family members who listen without emotions, without prejudices, without being judgmental and without donning an advisory hat, telling them what to do and what not to. It is here that I come into picture, by just listening to what they have in their mind or heart. I am just a resonance plate, which helps them define their thinking patterns.

Nishant could see the effect his words had on Sowmya. And thus, he started wrapping up.

“Yes of course, I charge a nominal fee for it, to be able to pay my bills. Off-late I also get invited to speak in workshops and seminars, and even manage to earn some royalties from my publishers. But at core, I am just a conversationalist, who enjoys his work. Like many others I too have converted my passions into my professions – I enjoy my conversations and also write about them.”

Not surprisingly, Sowmya saved Nishant's contact details as they began to leave the coffee shop. She always knew that she didn't have the gift of gab. But what she previously considered as idle conversations, were now starting to have a new meaning.