Metamorphosis

The phone rings. I look at it and find the words "Mom calling ..." or Dad calling ..." blinking up at me through the infuriating din of the ringtone. A sudden mood swing and I find my hitherto cheerful demeanour being drained away suddenly to be replaced by something almost alien in its coolness - a shroud of impassivity engulfs me and I find a strange, mechanical voice, that I struggle to recognise as my own, answering the call. Conversation continues perfunctorily. Monosyllabic replies from my side do nothing to help matters, until a hurt, exasperated silence falls. I just can't think of what to say! Unable to fathom my apparent reticence my parents hang up and I do too, immediately aware that something had transpired that I could not quite explain.

It was not always so bad. When I went to college as a shy, nervous freshman, I had suffered the same pangs of home-sickness that I had only heard about till then. I used to wait on a call from my family and try and choke back tears when it did actually come. I was not alone in my weakness. Sudden shakiness in the voice coming through would tell me what words couldn't. Distance brings people closer they say, and so it did. At least for a while.

Things then got busier in college. I found myself caught up in the flow and propelled along, unable to resist. Those heartaches faded away into oblivion and soon I was a new man - revelling in the new-found-freedom of hostel life. Family ceased to become a first priority and those visits home became increasingly sparse. And I was beginning to doubt the truth of that old saying.

The tenuous thread of human relationships hangs on words and actions. One wrong word , one missed action can cause irreparable damage. Indeed these changes of mood often caught me unawares and after the phone call had ended I would be left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Something was definitely wrong, but I was unable to put my finger on the cause.

Perhaps it was the closed atmosphere in college. A certain claustrophobia acting at the subconscious level, making one want to break out with violence. An uncontrollable anger that leaps out of a dark corner like a malevolent Mr. Hyde, ambushing conversation and making life hell afterwards.

Or maybe I'm just a psychopath in the making.