There was a time when my phone was always busy.
Morning calls.
Random evening check-ins.
Late night “dei macha, free ah?” conversations.
If I missed three calls, someone would message: “Are you alive?”
I was that guy.
I could sit with a class topper and discuss marks, then walk to the last bench and laugh about nothing. I was friends with introverts, extroverts, loud guys, silent guys, toppers, backbenchers — I never saw categories. I saw people.
My circle wasn’t small. It was massive.
And I made sure it stayed that way. I would call. I would follow up. I would organize. I would remember birthdays. I would maintain.
Connection was not accidental in my life. It was intentional.
Then somewhere around 2021, something changed.
Not dramatically. Not with a fight. Not with a single event.
It just… thinned.
Some friendships faded because of geography.
Some because of ego clashes.
Some because marriage and children took priority.
Some because life simply moved in different directions.
But here’s the part that surprised me.
The phone slowed down.
And I didn’t try to fix it.
At first, I noticed it like background noise disappearing.
Earlier my phone would ring even if I stepped into the bathroom. Now I can leave it in another room and nothing happens.
And when it rings?
I don’t feel excited.
I don’t feel irritated.
I just don’t feel like talking beyond five minutes.
That shocked me.
Because for most of my life, I enjoyed conversations. I enjoyed being needed. I enjoyed being in the middle of networks.
Somewhere along the way, that desire reduced.
Not because I hate people.
But because I no longer have the same appetite for noise.
The uncomfortable truth is this:
My identity was partially built on being “well connected.”
I was the bridge between groups.
The guy who knew everyone.
The one whose phone never slept.
When that stopped, I had to face a strange question:
If my phone doesn’t ring, who am I?
That question is not dramatic.
It’s quiet.
But it’s heavy.
I’ve also noticed something else.
I don’t have patience for surface-level conversations anymore.
“Enna da news?”
“Same old, machi.”
“Ok ok, catch up soon.”
That loop feels exhausting now.
If I talk, I want depth.
If I meet, I want meaning.
If we connect, I want alignment.
Otherwise silence feels better.
I recently read a line by Jim Rohn:
“You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”
Maybe midlife is when you consciously choose those five.
Not because others are bad.
But because your time becomes precious.
There’s another layer to this.
In the last few years, I’ve seen enough — professionally and personally — to understand that trust is fragile. You invest in people, and sometimes the return is confusion, distance, or disappointment.
You don’t become bitter.
You become selective.
That’s different.
Now when my phone doesn’t ring, I experience mixed feelings.
Sometimes there is relief.
Sometimes a small pinch.
Sometimes peace.
But I also notice this:
I think more.
I reflect more.
I plan more.
I observe more.
My external world reduced.
My internal world expanded.
Maybe this is not loneliness.
Maybe this is compression before redesign.
Maybe life is moving me from being socially available to being internally anchored.
I didn’t lose friends overnight.
I lost the need to be everywhere.
And I’m still figuring out whether that is decline…
Or growth in disguise.
AnandNataraj 