“What’s up?” a chat box popped open in Facebook. It was an old friend from school. I dreaded that question. No, I had not fallen out with her, nor was I encountering any crisis. All that bothered me was my strapping aversion to small talks. “What’s up?” I inquired myself.
What do I tell her about? Four years have passed since I had last met her. I could go on till eternity if she wanted to know about my ideas on life, love, the universe. But what is up with me? Do I tell her about all the changes that I have gone through or do I reveal to her my most profound thoughts on the last article I read on gender equality? Do I divulge the fact that I had gradually lost many friends yet unabashedly confess that I do not miss them or do I disclose the names of my closest friends with whom I share an equation that I had never shared with her? Do I tell her that the person she knew me to be is no longer existent and that even if nothing changes daily, everything is different? Do I unravel my heartfelt, almost overpowering feeling of love for my boyfriend or do I discuss the plot of my newest short story that I had been planning to write soon? Do I tell her about how I feel about the novel I am currently reading or do I share my excitement over the trailer of the latest promising movie? Or am I just supposed to answer about what I am doing now? But is that not obvious that I am online, Facebooking and perhaps browsing a few other pages? What do I write back?
“Nothing much” I finally keyed my answer back.