Secrets and surprises

Haven't you noticed that there are some people who are inordinately secretive? Even when asked a direct question, they manage a noncommittal answer, and when the conversation is over and you go home and think about it, you realise that you know as little about their job profile, how they came to be doing what they are doing, what they like and what they don't, as when you first met them.

There are others, even when they know you well, who take a very long time to open up. They allow you to ramble on to fill the silence and then, slowly, what they have to say comes forth - the reason why they have sought you out on this particular occasion, perhaps the bit of advice they are seeking or the juicy tidbit of news they have to offer - and you wonder how they could have let you drone on about the inconsequential through half the evening, when what they have to say is of so much more importance!

And then there are those who give you the full blast of information even when it is not asked for, almost as though, if kept to themselves, it would weigh them down. It just has to come bubbling over and gush forth at the first available second! They can't keep secrets, they can't build up to a surprise, they just have to get it over and done with!

In our circle of family and friends, we have our share of the secretive, the relucant to get to the point, the forthcoming, the totally transparent. Naturally, we learn to handle ourselves differently with each; we ask no questions of the secretive, we ask no questions of the forthcoming. With one we'll get nothing of substance in return; with the other, somewhere between the hello and the handshake, before the question is complete, all the beans are spilled.

How did we get to be this way, I wonder. We grew up in a large house where it was easy to hide and easy to be alone. It was also easy to eavesdrop and spy on each other with so many doorways and dark corners to hide curious little people. The family was small but the age difference between the siblings was large enough for each to have a lot to hide from the other.

The one who was "too young" to be told anything invariably wound up with the most information for hers were the sharpest ears - masked by the dumbest expression of disinterest, thumb in the mouth, eyes half closed.

From there it was only a short step to the parental forum, somewhat akin to the inquisition. Offenders were then forced to give out details like where they were going, with whom, when they'd be back, and so on. As white lies were spouted, warning glances were cast towards the offender - her plump girth barely hidden behind mother's skirts. But somehow those dire consequences never came to pass. All was forgiven in the haze of happiness once the outing was over!

Eventually, unlike the proverb, the little one's curiosity itself was killed and she outgrew her need to know what was going on around her. When her time in the sun came, there was no need for secrets for there was no one to keep them from, the other siblings having gone their way and parents having grown tired of cracking the disciplinary whip.

Maybe that's why, even today, she doesn't know when to be silent - her plans are broadcast almost before they are made and she's constantly dropping bricks or treading on toes! Warning glances are still thrown her way, but like all the other things that hasn't changed much in the family, the consequences rarely come to pass.

It seems that only in the outside world we can hope for a change that we can believe in!

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.