(Caution: Rant ahead.)

Last month, I had a significantly big argument with a friend (one which doesn’t get fixed with time). Apart from the core ideological difference in opinion, what irked me was that he was not listening to my constant requests of keeping quiet for two minutes. His 10 seconds of silence was a test of his and my patience—for different reasons. This is a characteristic feature in him—he cannot keep quiet (and listen).

But he is not alone.

The more I meet people, the more I become aware of how much they like to talk. They talk about their opinions. They talk about their professional qualifications. They talk about their feelings. And they also talk about their feelings about my feelings!

As an evident introvert, most acquaintances witness the quiet or reserved side of me. My family and friends are well-versed with the other—talkative—side of me. The difference is visibly vast because I consciously tell myself to stay quiet and listen.

This quality of being a listener is something I take great pride in.

However, things started changing once I became an adult. I met more and more people who were constantly talking about their great feats.

My 20s was dominated by the thought of wanting to ‘fit in’—especially as an introvert. In a society and space where people were talking about every thing, I stood less chance of being someone if I kept quiet. However, thankfully I did grow beyond the tumultuous ambition of ‘fitting in’ and decided to let my work do the talking.

By being a listener, I was introduced to a new way of life. I learnt the therapeutic art of self-reflection. I wrote and photographed earnestly. My breathing and footing were gentle. I smiled generously. As if I was more receptive and alive to every living and non-living thing around me.

In my 30s, not only am I struggling to maintain what I had learnt in the last decade, but am also battling a new plague. This one is layered with entitlement, blind privilege and perhaps even sexism.

Since my last month’s argument, I have been paying very close attention to all those who tell me (or peers in a group) ‘sorry for interrupting’ in a conversation. 90% of these are men (and these are people I have known for sometime). If I were to stereotype them, most are academically highly qualified, earn very well, happily married and socially gregarious. I can’t help but wonder why aren’t there enough women interrupting me. Are we by default listeners or have been made one?

This piece in The Guardian throws some light. The writer says, ‘Speech is another basic human right. To have a voice, to speak up, is to be recognised, to belong. But girls are trained in silence. They are told to be quiet, to speak softly, dheere bolo, to have no opinions, no arguments, no conflicts.’

This doesn’t imply that I have never been interrupted by women but the percentage is much lower.

With women not being listeners, I have a different painful plight.

Social media has changed the way we consume information. Listening is an ambitious quality to possess now. We are struggling with basics like self-confidence, trust and communication and a host of others. Ironically, this post about listening comes to you only because we are connected on social media and the Internet.

I digress.

Most of my female friends are constantly asking me how come I didn’t mention about incident A on Facebook or how I didn’t post such a beautiful photograph on Instagram, during our one-on-one meetings. For some of them, it isn’t enough that we share such experiences in personal conversations and interactions. Perhaps it needs to be further validated.

But where is the magic of exclusivity and an investment called attention on Facebook? I won’t divert into how social media cultivates lack of attention and empathy. But I’d like to ask: isn’t it special when a loved one shares that good news with you face-to-face or at least on a telephonic conversation than a public post on Facebook? I know I prefer the former.

I tell people to ‘be quiet’ because I am decluttering to go through my 30s to become a stronger listener. Because being attentive and available to those who matter to me is imperative.

Don’t get me wrong but are we listening anymore?

Note: This is not a personal attack. It is a self-reflective rant.