Seven Shades of Grey

by Vivek Mehra

  *

  Marilyn was the one with the most time logged on the Net, and it was she who volunteered to create the conference room in cyberspace. She instructed me to click on the Join button, once an invitation window popped up on my screen. It popped and I clicked and was transported to another larger message window. I then sought instructions from her to get Reshma into the room. She explained the procedure and soon the three of us were in ‘conference’.

  I felt like a proud father viewing his brood, more like a sheik admiring his harem. In real life I don’t think a situation like this could ever be created or more importantly controlled. A man… two women who loved him… in a room together? Unthinkable!

  The Unthinkable became a reality that day!

  I introduced the two and we were off to conquer new lands.

  The two women got to know more about each other; each already possessed some cursory information to go by. As I watched the words flow from the two my heart beat faster. It was a test of sorts to me, even though I still believe that it was not one for them. The more they asked about each other the more convinced they were that I had shared only cursory information and that facts about me which were common knowledge to both were true. This seemed to cement the bond between them and me a little more, their subconscious registering that I was as honest as I claimed to be.

  Get two women together and the men are soon forgotten. Such wonderful creatures that God had made and here were two of the best that I had seen, going at it hammer and tongs. I had to interject and remind the two that there was a third person in the room, the one they seemed to be ignoring, the one who had brought them together, ME! Both apologized and shifted their attention.

  Marilyn asked me about life without my wife, Reshma lending support. I replied that I was coping well, had been reading a lot more and meditating a lot more than I normally did. It was here that they gave me a small glimpse of their spiritual side. I assumed that Reshma being a Hindu would naturally be into prayer, temple visits and meditation. She surprised me by saying that she did pray but rarely, temple visits were far and between, meditation was a subject she consciously stayed away from.

  My presumption about Marilyn had been close to the one that most Easterners had about Westerners. I pictured her to be a carefree, liberated, bra-burning atheist.

  Not true!

  For the first time that day she spoke about her orthodox upbringing and how she had taught all those values to her five children. The entire family went to church on Sundays and observed all religious holidays with due respect and religious fervor. It surprised Reshma more than it did me, as I had come across pious people scattered all over the Western Hemisphere.

  Reshma did not seem comfortable discussing matters of the spirit world, or at least that is what I gleaned when she changed the topic. She told Marilyn that she had been given a nickname by me. That made Marilyn laugh for she confessed that she had been given one too. Surprisingly the two names that I had given the two were similar. I called Reshma ‘Mirchee’ and Marilyn ‘Hot Tamale’, two flavors from two corners of the world, two beautiful humans with one common link, me. I spent the next few minutes explaining the meaning of the two names, to the two curious kittens.

  Both laughed at the similarity even though I felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of my face. It was one thing for me to give nicknames to my friends; I was well within my rights to do that. But it was something alien to have two nicknamed friends reveal the name to the other; after all, these had been private. I did not want either of them feeling that I loved them any less just because I behaved in a similar fashion with the other. My fears were unfounded, for then started a lengthy discussion on me.

  Marilyn was the one who started the ball rolling by revealing how much time I spent with her, how I made her smile whenever she was down and how I had continued to be friends even though she had been obstinate at times.

  ‘He is like a drug, gives you a great high and very addictive’ is how she described me. Reshma, not wanting to be left behind, responded by expressing similar sentiments. It did not stop at that.

  Emboldened by the information that flowed in the room that day, both let loose a volley of praises about me. As I sat dumbstruck and mute I witnessed some of the most beautiful words ever written about me by ‘virtual’ friends and real-life-strangers. In their own way both revealed how much my interaction on the Net had changed their lives and how much each had grown to love me. Two strangers from two corners of the globe, at two different computers professing love for a third who was in equal measure a stranger. I felt the power of words I typed, felt the strength of honesty I professed, reinforcing my commitment to life in Cyberspace.

  Where else could I find love like this?

  It catered to none of the five basic senses, and yet it reached the core of the soul of strange IDs that represented a human hunched over a computer screen. A friend could love a friend in the world of flesh and bones because he could see the body, attach a name to a face, attach significance to a gesture, all of which was impossible on the Net. And yet here were two strangers who saw nothing but words that flowed on their computer screen and believed them.

  Belief!

  God cannot be seen, nor touched, he was nothing but a BELIEF!

  Existence of the Lord could be seen in his creations, the power of words seen in the love felt by strangers.

  It made me glow and made me teary-eyed.

  The two promised to keep in touch, adding their respective IDs to their respective friend’s list. When it did end I was happy that it had gone well, happy that I could get two strangers to talk to each other and happy that in some small way I helped build bridges between people. But then I had no way to fathom the depth at which my interaction had affected them. When I did get to know I was shocked! The first indication came from Marilyn in the form of an email, one I never thought would ever arrive in my Inbox.

  It was a day like any other in my life without my wife. I went to check my email and there was one from Marilyn titled ‘Your Hot Tamale’ and one that had an attachment. As I clicked it open, my eyes widened with bewilderment at what I read and saw.

  Marilyn began the email by telling me how moved she had been by the conference the other day and how she wanted to do something special for her friend in cyberspace. She had decided to throw caution to the wind, burn the book with the New Rules for the New World and send me something that I had asked for long ago: her picture.

  My dear Vik,

  Can’t thank you enough for everything. Was really touched by you getting Reshma and me together, don’t know why but wanted to do something special for you.

  I know u have waited a long time for this ... so here it is - a picture of your Hot Tamale ... I am sorry it is not a very good one ’cos I had it taken at the mall. I then took it to a friend’s place to get it scanned and then sent it to you. Panda does not know about this so please make sure it remains our secret. I might tell him someday but u please don’t mention this. I know ur wife also has been waiting for this. I guess I missed u so much that I wanted to do something special for u. I don’t think this is very special but I wanted to do it just for u.

  I miss u,

  Love,

  Hot Tamale

  As the picture slowly loaded on to my monitor a wave swept over me. I was a cocktail of emotions, touched, happy, moist-eyed and exhilarated. It had taken months to get the picture and in itself it meant little. But that small gesture stood for something much bigger, something far more important than the insignificant amount of data space it occupied.

  It represented trust, one that I had built with a stranger.

  It represented love that this trust had given birth to.

  It represented victory of my beliefs.

  It was all this and more.

  Mere words affecting a stranger halfway across the globe had already been amply demonstrated to me. But interaction of a clandestine nature to actually change the way a stranger viewed another
stranger was something that I never bargained for. She had sent the picture without letting Panda know, a fact clearly mentioned in her email.

  For a woman to do something against a set rule that governed her meant that somewhere in the depths of her soul she had been affected. Affected so strongly that she could actually contemplate and then execute change. At that very moment I knew that Marilyn and I had cemented a bond that would last a lifetime, even though she later sent me pictures of her entire family, Panda included.

  It mattered little if we never got to see each other in the flesh, mattered little if we rarely got to chat again, for we had become a part of each other in a way that could only be conjectured and experienced first hand. And that too in cyberspace!

  The conference had similarly changed Reshma too. We had come closer as humans and loved each other as only strangers on the Net could. She was to demonstrate this in her own characteristic hot and fiery way.

  It was about a week later on a Monday that I found an offline message on my Messenger. It was from Reshma, brief and curt.

  Delta2000: will not chat with u again … had a fight with hubby … keep in touch with email

  I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach; it felt like a prize fighter had landed a right hook knocking my breath out.

  Was I the cause of the fight?

  My mind raced conjuring up images of Reshma scarlet with anger, husband firm unyielding, both locking horns together over god knows what. I fervently hoped it was not over me. I reveled in the fact that I made someone happy, dreaded and hated to be the cause of any kind of grief, more so to one who lived in cyberspace. While still lost in this sea of emotions, Messenger informed me that Reshma was online. I quickly opened a messenger window and asked her to explain the message she left me. She responded by telling me that she would tell me all in an email, and before I could send another word she disconnected.

  The rest of the day I waited with bated breath for the email to arrive. I was tempted to call her at her office on the telephone, fear preventing me from turning thought into action. My wait ended later that evening when the email arrived in my Inbox. It explained events that occurred over the weekend.

  They had a few friends over for dinner on Saturday night, where booze flowed like water, her husband taking several baths. By late night he was too drunk to sleep, logged on to the Net and was lost chatting to strangers. She had tried to woo him to bed, failing miserably; and feeling hurt had fallen asleep. Around 4 a.m. she had awoken with a start to find hubby still sitting at the computer, chatting. She, furious and concerned, commanded him to get to bed. No other words were exchanged before he crawled in, and yet she could tell that he was not amused at her fiery outburst.

  She was up around nine the next morning, while he cuddled like a baby in bed. She let him sleep for another hour while she busied herself with her daily chores. At ten she tried to resurrect him only to hear him plead for some more time in bed. Her fiery temper got the better of her, and she let him sleep, refusing to wake him up till he awoke from his slumber on his own. The time was four in the afternoon. And then all hell broke loose.

  Furious words were hurled as only a husband and wife could. The arguments went on for a half-hour with neither side willing to concede. Then hubby in his stupor made a comment that hurt her to the core. He stated that it was easy for her to dissuade him from chatting from home because she got all the time at her office to chat.

  I was sure this was not the entire story, as somewhere in there the respective chat friends must have figured. I know that Reshma had told her hubby all about me, and I could not be sure if he had done the same about some special friend of his. Nevertheless the friends must have been thrown around in conversation.

  With the remark that was made, Reshma stated that the best way to get back to being a couple was to give up chatting all together and hence the message to me. It was agreed between them that they would stick to writing emails to keep in touch with the friends they already had.

  I was concerned that the two fought and amused at the issue over which the fight took place. It was a common occurrence in the West, one spouse fighting with the other over chatting. I had also read about one instance wherein a wife had brought her chat ‘boyfriend’ to meet the husband. This story ended on a happy note, as the husband, sensing a serious threat to his throne, started paying more attention to his wife. New Rules for the New World.

  In my anxiety to soothe her ruffled feathers or probably because a bout of madness possessed me, I called Reshma on the phone at her residence. The phone was answered by her husband. I made a feeble excuse of calling to find out about his impending trip to Europe that his wife had mentioned to me. I was wondering if he was flying out of Bombay and if so would love to meet with him. Reshma had mentioned the visit in a chat not too long ago. He answered me politely, indulging me, not letting me know of the storm that had brewed over the weekend, one that I already was privy to. And then he made a statement that startled me. He asked me if I wished to speak to his wife, and I could only blurt affirmatively. The drummers returned to pound!

  Reshma was on, and I apologized profusely for being insensitive to her problems and for any additional that I might have created with my phone call. She spoke in neutral terms telling me that it was OK, nothing to worry about and that she would email me the next day. I hurriedly put down the phone and tried to send the drummers away.

  Damn! Why had I put a friend on the spot?

  What was I thinking when I called? Reshma had long ago told me that her hubby and she got back home together, he picking her up on most days. Why in heaven’s name had I forgotten this? I prayed that things were not further complicated. The deed was done and there was nothing else I could do about it. I sat in a stupor staring into space and thought about what else I could do. The answer was simple: go home, take a shower, and pray. And that is what I did.

  The next morning bought relief with a short email from Reshma. She told me that up to the moment that the call was received in her house, hubby and she were not talking to each other, and strangely my call helped melt the ice between them. She was thankful for me being so thoughtful.

  Thoughtful? It was the most thoughtless thing I have ever done!

  But it made me smile that in some small way I had brought a smile to their faces. The next thing I did was pen an email to Reshma trying to give her a man’s point of view about the situation.

  Dear Reshma,

  What I have to say has got nothing to do with what is right and what is wrong. Being a man I would like to share with you some feelings so that you understand ur hubby and me a little better. That is the sole purpose of this exercise. Now if you don’t understand something I say here please do clarify it with me before jumping to conclusions and stop keeping in touch with me (lol).

  Now strictly from a man’s point of view, here goes.

  The way a man sees it is as follows. The two of you leave together for work everyday, come home for lunch and reach home together every evening. You guys get to spend a lot of time together, more than what people in Bombay (like me) get to spend. In all of this the Internet is there, somewhere. You feel that Sunday is your day or the day of the family. You are pretty right in thinking that. But have you wondered what day in the week belongs to your husband? I can’t think of any day that actually belongs to a man. That is why all my emails begin with the saying ‘College is the only vacation that a man gets from his mother and his wife’.

  Don’t worry you are not alone, Dolly too was like you. It’s not a question of being right or wrong at all. It is a question of space for an individual. You were upset that your hubby woke up at 4 p.m. on Sunday. Let me tell you this. I don’t wake up till 11:30 or noon on EVERY SUNDAY and I don’t even sit on the Net on Sat. night. After a bath, lunch and watching TV I am usually back in bed by 4 for another nap lasting an hour or more. I don’t take phone calls from relatives during these hours nor do I call anyone. I am sure your hubby is not a heavy
drinker but once in a while a man likes to set aside his daily problems and just numb the mind. What is wrong with that?

  I am not negating the role of a woman here. In fact in your case you look after the house as well as hold a job. In my case I will not let my wife hold down a job. Between a couple there has to be one fresh enough to look after the other. We (Dolly and I) faced a similar situation at home where she wanted to do something on her own FULL TIME. I thought it over for a few days then spoke to her. If she wanted to do something FULL TIME then I would sit at home. I would cook, clean and be fresh to receive her when she came home, tired and weary. I would also expect the same pocket money that I was giving her today.

  She does her own thing but it does not occupy her entire day. Now this example is no reflection on you or your desire to work. I am sure you have reasons that are good enough and I am in no position to comment on them. Just wanted to let you know what goes through a man’s mind.

  Now coming back to the question of space. I know the question that is racing through your mind. Where is the day off for me? I know all women have that one on the top of their mind (lol). It’s true you probably want to have your hubby all to yourself on every Sunday because the rest of the week you both work very hard. In fact you guys have the additional responsibility to your kids who also need your time. I agree on that 100%. So what we have here is a situation which is going NOWHERE. A middle of the road approach would be the idea of the day. I will give you the situation between Dolly and me.

  On Sundays I sleep - there is no question about that. I don’t care if the world is coming to an end. Vikram will be asleep on Sunday mornings. That is the law. Dolly loves visiting exhibitions that are held in Bombay. I do too, but not as much as she does. Most exhibitions are held over the weekend and in South Bombay. It is at least a 1.5-hour drive one way and more on the way back. She asks me on Saturday (when I am in a good mood ... lol) if I would take her there. If the exhibition is really nice I agree and take her. If I don’t feel up to it I don’t. The greatest thing about her is that she does not make noise about it. That makes me feel doubly bad. But then she knows the hours I work and the kind of pressure on me.