Confusion

It's something I can't put my finger on. It's something I can't prove. It sure as heck won't form part of 'the whole truth', were there to be an oath which includes that phrase.

And yet, it's real.

I'm speaking of something most of you must've felt. Maybe you called it by another name, maybe you didn't call it at all, because you didn't recognise it. But everyone has felt it at some point in their lives. Even at most point in their lives.

I'm speaking of the 'vibe'.

Yes, the vibe.

That intangible, yet very real feeling you get when you enter a room for the first time ever. Meet a person you've never met before, or reunited with after years. Visit a city you had once known as home but have now almost forgotten.

And the feeling you get when you disagree with a close friend.

The New Year is ten minutes away. That's supposed to be a new beginning. There's supposed to be this great magic slate in the sky which, with a whoosh, erases the old to make way for what you're going to write anew for the next three hundred and sixty five days. Heck, this counts as the beginning of a new decade, so make that three thousand -- something something days, including a couple of leap years.

Does it erase the vibe?

The vibe which is just three hundred and sixty five seconds old?

Why did we start discussing politics at a New Year's Eve party anyway? And what does it matter, what language I speak at home, or what I choose to protest against or defend? Can't I be neutral about an issue? Heck, what if I'm just confused and trying to understand, but everyone is shouting so much, I can't get a clear voice in all that babble? What if my questions are just that -- questions, because I want to know, not challenges to what you think is right?

And through all that confusion, there is the vibe. The clear, unspoken, tangible, sharp-as-knife vibe. The vibe that says 'you're either for us or against us'.

I can't prove it. If I ask them, they'll deny it. But she happens to be a good friend, and I know her vibe. I didn't realise, until now, how well I know her -- but then, we've been friends for almost all our lives. I know her every gesture, every raise of the eyebrow, every change in tone. And, at this point, with five minutes to go till we blow this little trumpet and wish each other a happy new year, I know her vibe.

Aren't we friends anymore, because there's a chance we stand on different sides of the political fence? We don't know whether we do or not, there are no words yet, just the vibe but there's a good chance this is one thing we don't agree upon.

And if we disagree, what'll be wiped out, when that slate blows clean at midnight? The disagreement? The vibe? Our friendship?

Why am I not able to speak and ask her? Is is the noise of those little tin whistles that is stopping me, or something more? What happened to freedom of expression? Does it only mean freedom to express something she agrees with? Am I being over-sensitive? Am I reading too much into this vibe?

There are four minutes to go, and I suddenly feel I don't want to know what gets blanked out of the slate. I want to go home. But I can't, I have to stay till midnight -- or people will talk. They'll wonder why I left before saying "Happy New Year' when it was so close. Is there any excuse I can give?

Here she comes. She's smiling. She's got that irritating party hat on, and is actually holding one out to me. I'll take it, I don't want to have an added hat-refused vibe. Ah, champagne. I'd rather just have orange juice, but it has to be champagne. She takes the glass from the waiter and hands it to me, I accept with a smile. We're getting ready to wipe that slate clean, and I'm wondering where I'll be when the chalk-dust settles.

Just one minute to go now.

Thirty seconds.

Ten.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

"I got a message, my cousin is arriving, she got a cheap flight, I got to go to the airport."

I breathe the fresh air of the parking lot. Why hadn't I thought of that excuse ten minutes ago? I get into the car and drive. Of course there's no airport pick up, that was just an excuse. Shall I go and get some ice cream, to cool the vibe down?

My phone is vibrating. Incoming message. "If you're going for ice cream, I want to come too. I know there's no airport. I'd call, but I can't hear myself think, in this din. Meet you near my car."

I smile. It wasn't the friendship that got wiped out.

The only vibe I feel as we share a triple-sundae is warm and fuzzy (with a little chill on the tongue as the ice cream hits.)