ONE WORD

During my first interview in London

‘Describe yourself in one word’, she said, as she stared at me with a warm but pushy smile. I never understood the purpose of these exercises. Especially didn't understand why we all had to sit in a circle exposing ourselves to the judging and inquisitive eyes of each and every person in the group. Isn't that the exact opposite of why I came here? To disappear? To be invisible? Just a face?


I heard about this strange group from a friend of mine who studied theatre. It was a group where you could just show up with a fake name, a fake life, a fake personality but very real problems and discuss them with complete strangers. ‘No specifics’, the group was called. How apt. I was told about it several years ago, found it very odd and useless at the time but had stowed it away in my memory for some reason completely unknown to me. It wasn't until several weeks after yet another failed love that the foggy memory of this group started piecing itself together in my mind. And before I knew it I was in the basement of an annoyingly multi-coloured building on the corner of a street whose walls were covered with graffiti and posters of RnB and Hip-hop parties.

‘Sonu? One word?’ she said again, the warmth of her pushy smile now spreading to her voice. ‘Urm, Indian?’ I asked unsure of what to say. ‘Come on, you can do better than that.’ I can do better than that. Really? How would she know? She doesn't even know my real name. ‘Give it a go. Don’t think too much. Just say the first word that comes to mind.’ So completely uncharacteristically I closed my eyes and waited to hear an inner-voice telling me what I was in one word. And without so much as a second chance, before my mind had the time to register what I was about to say, before I could stop myself and think about the word that was about to spew from my lips and stick on the walls, spill on the floors, fly out of the open windows into the world from where I could never ever take it back... out it came... my one word... “Puppy.”

“Hmm, puppy. Interesting. Why do you think that word describes you best?” she asked.

I don’t know what it was about this moment, why I had such clarity and such a profound need to share it with these complete strangers, but I started talking and sharing things even I was unaware of.

“I guess it’s because I am. I am a pathetic little puppy. Always needing attention and love. Always needing to be taken care of. Always falling in love with every woman who shows me even a little bit of affection. Always desperately in love. Letting them own me, put hands around my neck and take me for a ride. Letting them claim me. I'm pathetic. A lonely little puppy.” Like a waterfall my tears and my words came cascading out of me. And my feelings came bouncing to the surface like a buoy that refused to stay underwater.

I don’t know how long I sat on that chair for sobbing away. It felt like a few seconds but I know it was much longer because I couldn't see the sunlight outside any more and I had goose bumps from the chill that was sneaking in through the half closed windows. But for however long it was, those nameless strangers were there for me. Loving me. Giving me a little bit of their time. Just like they would to a lonely stray puppy on the corner of a street.