By Ratna Manucha
‘Listen twice as much as you speak and then you’ll be heard twice as much as you listen.’
Yup, Dear Reader, you read right. Fine conversation, ‘guftagu’, like fine dining, is an art. To be able to talk, or narrate something, all the while holding on to one’s listener’s attention, to be able to draw out one’s listener and make them comfortable enough to be able to open out or to have a mutually interesting conversation where there is mutual give and take of ideas and attentive listening… and at the end of the conversation one feels as if one has just experienced an intellectual orgasm – be it with a person of the same sex or of the opposite sex, well, that conversation can safely be labelled as scintillating, titillating, stimulating, exciting, thrilling… you get the gist.
It can be cultivated – this art, I mean. Just as an artist brings forth the subtle nuances of a painting with artful strokes of the brush, a good conversationalist too will have mastered the art of drawing forth his or her fellow conversationalist into a meaningful exchange of ideas – the three key ingredients being active listening, thoughtful speaking, showing genuine interest in others and avoiding self-absorption.
But what happens in today’s times? We don’t have time or the inclination to listen. Or maybe it is because we are stuffed chock-a block full of our own importance and we just need to unload all that onto the first person who is willing to listen.
So, the other day, we were at a friend’s house who had unfortunately lost her husband the night before. We were all sitting around, trying unsuccessfully to show our support and allowing our friend to grieve quietly, when in walked a co-worker from her place of work.
Since we knew she had had a knee operation the previous month, someone in all innocence asked her how she was feeling. It was as if a cannon had been let loose. She started by telling the room full of people why she settled on a particular hospital in Delhi and then went on to describe the operation procedure in gory detail. She was so busy talking…in fact I don’t know where she was looking because she definitely did not notice that a couple of us had got up and left the room in sheer disgust. She was so self-obsessed that I have a sneaking suspicion that she had actually forgotten why she was there in the first place.
And more often than not, this is what happens. I find myself zoning out within minutes when I find the conversation running only on one track, which wasn’t the case when I was young and foolish. Now that I’m older (much older) and wiser (a tad bit wiser) if the conversation is not moving on a two-way street, I make an exit. Do I really want to know what the divorced wife of your nephew enjoyed eating when she visited you? Do I, really?? Stop, lady and breathe. Look into my eyes. Do you see even a faint glimmer of interest in the conversation? Isn’t it crystal clear that I’m zoning out?
But, on the other hand, if one tries to gauge the interest of the listeners and then embark on a topic in which there will be a shared interest, one can feel the vibes in the room changing. How wonderful to be able to come home and say, ‘I had the most amazing conversation today!’
How many of us really crave this aphrodisiac for the soul? It enriches one and drenches one in words…words that embrace, envelop, enrich and caress.
As one is moving on in years, if the conversation is not moving on a two way street, it is easy to make a quick exit. Time is short…literally and it is painful to waste it on inanities.
‘Sometimes the greatest adventure is simply a conversation’ – Amadeus.
(Ratna Manucha, educationist, author and columnist, lives, dreams and writes in Dehradun, her happy place.)
