The high scoring IPL has left bowlers with few places to hide and raised concerns about the balance between bat and ball ahead of next month's T20 World Cup
sports2 hours ago
Since I consider myself a contextual anachronism and inhabit my own time zone, till recently, I had no idea what the (new-fangled?) term 'energy vampire' means. It's easy enough to figure out, though: someone (or maybe something, like a not-so-magnificent obsession) that sucks away your time and, by extension, life-giving energy - much like how the Transylvanian count sucked blood and life out of countless hapless victims.
Maybe one reason why I empathised with the term so much - and wondered why on earth I hadn't looked it up earlier - was because I immediately realised I have a lot of energy vampires in my life. Exhausting conversations with them - that start off being open-ended and then stretch on to becoming horribly futile - have me scrambling for that bottle of multi-vitamin pills.
Why do you give people so much time, I was asked recently.
Because I want to be empathetic, I said. Empathy is a great virtue, I believe. Being able to be non-judgemental, yet keen, and giving the other person an impression that can we just, well, talk. anything to make the load lighter, make them feel more wanted, make them believe I'm a listener, not a hearer. basically a sounding board, not an echo chamber.
Who knows, perhaps (at times) I actually manage to administer a pre-emptive strike before some form of dreaded depression sinks in?
It all started forming into a wisp, and then a thundercloud, with this woman I know vaguely, who, I was told, looked up to me as a mentor and guiding light; she sought life - and professional - advice from me once in a while. You know stuff like relationships not working out, promotions not happening, the world at large being non-compromising, unyielding about her concerns.
Was happy to help.
I became an agony aunt of sorts. And then, the floodgates opened. I was spending at least two to three hours hearing out her rants - and trying to listen and then give constructive feedback.
But nothing appeared to change. Ideological differences in her romantic liaisons kept rubbing off all the soothing balm I was trying to apply. Her bosses were never seeing her point of view. Her family members were discovering new - and novel - ways of torturing her.
"Maybe something's wrong with her," someone suggested.
Maybe there was, but I was already a victim. Sometime later, she moved cities, and conversations moved to WhatsApp. I'd wake up to find a litany of complaints piled up. If I didn't reply immediately, she'd hound me. Her tone would become sulky: "You're not listening to me any more!"
To make matters worse, there were more of her ilk coming into my life - to tell me about their problems. One of them pinged while I was at a work meeting saying she needed to vent something out of her system rightaway, so did I have five minutes? I don't, I messaged back, am in the middle of a meeting. Can you take some time out for me please, she pleaded. "It's kind of urgent." There was an incoming call five seconds later.
I informed all assembled (at the meeting), I've got to take this call - "It's from the bank, there's some issue with my credit card, apparently", and did an eye roll for good measure as I stepped out of the room.
She told me I needed to unfriend her ex-boyfriend from Facebook. "Ex? When did he become ex?"
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about!"
"Are you a psycho magnet?" yet another friend asked when I told him about this line of people in my life who need constant validation by making me believe they are always teetering on The Edge.
"How do I know they will not be pushed over if I don't listen to them?" I countered, more frazzled than ever.
"Hey," he said gently, "it's not about you. It's about them. They have a problem - they need to deal with it. you don't need to feel responsible."
I decided to do a trial run. The opportunity presented itself when I was speaking with a family member. He went on and on about how everything is wrong with his life: domestic helps were shirking work, the Indian government was shortchanging his savings, the weather wasn't cold enough, etc.
"Let me tell you all what's wrong with my life," I interrupted. "My bathroom ceiling was leaking yesterday, so the maintenance guys came in the morning - and I couldn't do my workouts, and now I'm feeling really bloated."
"Can you call me later?" he cut in swiftly. "I think there's someone at the front door."
sushmita@khaleejtimes.com
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