by Nikita Singh
“It’s raining. Hard,” I said into the phone.
“I can see that,” Ankit stated from the other end.
“I don’t like rains.”
“That’s an understatement. You hate rains.”
“Why is it raining then?”
“You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”
“I guess not. I ain’t going to college.”
“You should’ve said that before. I’m already ready.”
“I didn’t have it planned. I just woke up to see it’s raining so badly. I’m not leaving home in that mess. And anyway, I ain’t going doesn’t mean you need to bunk too!”
He ignored the last sentence. “You woke up now? It’s 10:15.”
“I could’ve made it to college by eleven.”
“Yeah, it’s not like you have to bathe or something.”
“You know me,” I smiled. I don’t like taking bath. Except for college days when I absolutely have to, I don’t think I bathe ever. “But I would’ve taken bath had I decided to go to college.”
“Hey, come on! Don’t take bath if you don’t want to, but at least come to college.”
“There isn’t a way I’m going out in all that filth. Rain is bad. Evil. It destroys earth.”
“Although I don’t agree—”
“Why? Look around yourself. Such a sad climate. So moist and all . . . how can someone in his right mind consider it even remotely romantic? And the mud! Don’t even get me started—”
“Let’s not get into all that. I’m not going to college either,” he changed the topic.
“I know. Your whole world revolves around me!”
“Yes, your majesty!”
Which was kind of true. Ankit’s world did revolve around me. I met Ankit when he joined my school in XI standard. We were best friends in no time. We, despite being so unlike each other, had similar choice in movies, music and novels. That’s what got us talking at first.
Two years later, after passing out from school, we were both set to go to different cities for further studies. That was when my father’s sudden death made me decide to stay at home with my mother. I hated to leave her alone at such a time. So I took admission in a local college to pursue BBA.
Ankit, being sweet as he was, didn’t feel like leaving me alone, especially given the circumstances. So he stayed back at Ranchi with me.
Trust me when I say, I tried my level best to make him go, but he had made up his mind and did not budge from his decision. Putting his career at stake for a girl he knew he had no chance of wooing . . . I mean, who does that?
I knew he had feelings for me, right from the beginning. He never said such in words, but you don’t need words to know that someone loves you. Seriously, words are overrated!
I loved him too, but in a completely different, unromantic way. And that was because I was unromantic. Yes, there had been a time when I couldn’t get enough of songs by Enrique Iglesias and Back Street Boys and kept watching movies like ‘Serendipity’ and ‘A Walk to Remember’ time and again. And yes, I used to read all that gooey and gross stuff by Mills and Boon too, which amazingly didn’t make me gag and puke then.
But that was all in the past. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was over that cheesy and romantic phase before I entered college. And I knew that the so-called, super hyped term ‘love’ didn’t exist in the real world. Okay. It might exist for some, but I just ain’t that lucky!
Ankit thought otherwise. Now, when we were in the third and the last year of our college, I think he was still in love with that sweet little naïve girl that I was four years back. I assure you, I wasn’t sweet in any sense of the word anymore. I bite!
So anyway, he ended up staying at Ranchi with me and joined my college. And though our tastes in music, movies and novels no longer matched (I had moved onto Eminem and Linkin Park and ditched romantic movies and novels), we were closer than ever.
He was my anchor. You see, I am the type of person for whom everything happens in extremes. Either I absolutely love something or I absolutely hate it. It was all either black or white; my brain wasn’t programmed to recognise the greys.
I made spontaneous decisions and always went with my instincts, which happened to be very shitty, making me end up in extremely shitty situations. Ankit got me out of them. And he was the one who thought of good cover-ups to hide whatever I did.
He was that type of a person—sane, caring and thoughtful—My exact opposite.
And he deserved someone far better than me. Someone with brains!
“Get a girlfriend.”
“What? Where did that come from?” he asked, puzzled.
“Doesn’t matter. Just get a girlfriend.”
“It’s so easy for you to say. Do you know how difficult it is to find a decent girl in the city?”
“Not for you! You’re typical tall, dark and handsome prototype. You can get almost any girl around here.”
“Almost,” he said softly.
No, no, no, no, no. Don’t steer the conversation my way! I knew where it was going. Almost any girl. Not me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you find one,” I said and hung up the call. I hated the conversations that included me, him and love.
I mean, why me? I wasn’t even all that good-looking. And he could literally get any girl in the city. I might not have mentioned before, but he was the perfect recipe for the dream boyfriend – smart, witty, good sense of humour, caring and romantic. The type of guy who’d never cheat on his girl. Not to mention, he was an amazing dancer. Plus so damn gorgeous! Even better looking than VJ Ron. VJ Ron . . . I logged into my Facebook Account and started checking out his Photos. Maybe he looked better than Ankit, but only in some Photos. In most others, Ankit beat him hands down.
That day, I don’t remember exactly how many of his Photos I commented on, but I can be sure there were many. I had a simple justification – that’s how I got the chance to chat with him last time. I was hoping the history would repeat itself.
Better sooner than later.
And although I did not really get a chance to chat with him, he did reply to one of the many Comments I had posted.
Vatsala: You’re looking taller than I’d imagined . . . ;)
Ronit: Every inch of 5’10” Vatsala! :P
Vatsala: Perfect :D
Perfect? Not really! Ankit was taller. Just by an inch, but taller.
Chat-4
Battlefield
September 10th, 2010
“I can die any minute,” I whispered.
“I’m not doing much better either,” Jaanvi whispered back.
“How much more time?”
She checked her watch. “Forty minutes. The class started just five minutes ago!”
“Aargh.” Classes are boring, everybody knows that. But this boring? Five minutes into it and I was already at the risk of dozing off any moment. Some teachers just know how to press the snooze button in their students!
Jaanvi took out a novel to read. Some book by Nicholas Sparks. She was a big romantic. Sometimes, I used to wonder why Ankit and Jaanvi weren’t dating. They were so like each other—hard-core romantics (in other words—lunatics!).
I took out my cell phone and logged into Facebook. We were sitting in the last bench, as we always did, so no one would notice (I hoped!).
There were several Notifications waiting for me. One caught my eye – “Samarth Jain, Kritika Sen and 7 other people commented on Ronit Oberoi’s status.”
The last Comment was from some boy named Samarth, posted just minutes ago.
Samarth Jain: U suck mayn!!!
Mayn? I think he meant ‘man.’ People invent new spellings for words now-a-days. They think it is cool (or should I say kewl?) I think it’s totally wannabe.
I mean, I don’t mind as long as it’s an abbreviation, but more often than not, their invented spellings contain larger number of alphabets than the good old British/American English language spellings. And they are
astonishingly perplexing.
Even more shockingly, people now invent names for themselves. How else can you explain the weird names you come across on Facebook? Like Princess Priya, Angel Rockkstar, Broken Heart and Harsh Beatzz? Their parents surely didn’t name them that!
If you have an Account on Facebook, I’m sure you’ll agree that sometimes you encounter some really irritating people. People who’ll Tag you in random Photos and you end up getting a Notification every time someone posts a Comment on that Photo. It’ll be a photo of a dog and people will Comment stuff like ‘choo chweeeet’ (so sweet). It’ll be a photo of a guitar, and not knowing what else to say, people will Comment ‘thanx 4 d tag’ (thanks for the tag).
And then there are people who used the words ‘dude’ and ‘buddy’ way too much. They’ll probably call you ‘dear’ or ‘sweetie’ the first time they talk to you. Or call you mam (ma’am).
And people who recently discovered meanings of abbreviations like ‘lol’ and ‘rofl’ will type ‘hahaha lolzz’ after every Comment.
Don’t even get me started on the excessive use of the alphabet Z and exclamatory mark.
Anyway, back to the Comment (I tend to get carried away sometimes!). What Samarth posted was uncalled for. Why did he Add Ronit as his Friend in the first place if he thought he ‘sucked’?
I decided to ask him precisely that, for two reasons – I loved picking up fights and I was getting really bored.
Vatsala Rathore: What are you doing in his friend list then, Samarth?
Samarth Jain: Juzz tryin 2 c y he hays such beeg fayn foloing!!!!!!
I guess he hadn’t invented spellings for ‘he’ and ‘such’ yet!
Vatsala Rathore: He’s a celebrity. Duh!
Samarth Jain: Heezz juzz a guy hoo toks rubbish on TV. :P :P :P
It took me some time to decode that.
Vatsala Rathore: Do I smell jealousy?
Samarth Jain: Y wood I b jluz??? I m Samarth Jain n m happi s gawd made mea . . .
This Comment was at least six times longer and I couldn’t figure out the rest of it. So there’s no way I could tell you what it was!
Vatsala Rathore: Your comment was pretty much undecipherable. I didn’t get a thing.
Samarth Jain: Huh??
Do I even need to tell you that he was dumb?
Vatsala Rathore: Whatever.
Samarth Jain: Woteva??? I get dat a lot 4m gurlz . . . try sumthng new!!!! :P :P
Vatsala Rathore: Get a life!
Samarth Jain: Hahaha!! :D :P ohkay I wil!!!!
I left that space then and started checking other Notifications when he commented again.
Samarth Jain: Kan u cum on chat???
Vatsala Rathore: You’re not in my friend list.
Samarth Jain: I snt u a rqst . . .
I ignored his Friend Request right away. I had been looking for some entertainment. This guy was just plain annoying!
Samarth Jain: Heyllo???
Vatsala Rathore: What?
Samarth Jain: Add mea!!
Vatsala Rathore: Why?
Samarth Jain: I lyk ur toks! U r witty . . . I LYK!!
Vatsala Rathore: Thanks, but no.
Samarth Jain: Yyyy??
Vatsala Rathore: I don’t add unknown people.
Hell, I didn’t add most known people either! Having just fifty-four friends on Facebook is pretty unusual. Most people exceeded that figure in their first week of joining Facebook.
Samarth Jain: U no VJ Roan???
Vatsala Rathore: I’m pretty sure it’s Ron, not Roan.
Samarth Jain: Itz prnouncd dat way!!!
Vatsala Rathore: Oh? I thought it was more like Raw-n. Silly of me.
Samarth Jain: Y r u so angryyyy?
I noticed he put just one question mark this time. To make up for the four ‘Y’s, I guess! But this guy was really getting on my nerves by then. I decided to ignore him; the class had started to seem less annoying!
But he just won’t let me be. He kept sending me Messages and Friend Requests every time I ignored one and posting Comments on Ronit’s Status. The last one said:
Samarth Jain: Juzz tel mea y u r nt addin mea???
Vatsala Rathore: Because you are exceptionally irritating and I’m getting exceedingly pissed off!
Samarth Jain: K. f9. Biii!!!
He stopped posting Comments on Ronit’s Status after that but kept sending me Messages.
“This boy is really irritating me now,” I said under my breath.
“What happened?” Jaanvi whispered.
“He just won’t leave me alone. Messages and Friend Requests . . . I don’t know how to get rid of him.”
Jaanvi gave me a look.
I looked at her blankly in turn.
“Block him, genius!”
“Oh right,” I grinned sheepishly. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I Blocked him and the Messages came to an end.
The class ended after sometime too. As we stood to leave the room, I noticed tears in Jaanvi’s eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
“What? Nothing,” she said and turned away to put her novel back into her bag. I snatched it and looked at its cover.
“No use denying it, Jaanvi. I know you’re crying, that too because of this? The Notebook? When you cried for A Walk to Remember, it was justified. But The Notebook? Seriously?”
“What? It’s an emotional novel too!” she defended herself.
“But crying?”
“Come on! You’re talking as if you’ve read it.”
I had. Not that I was ever going to admit it. “Of course I haven’t. Romance novels make me sick,” I made a show of gagging.
“Then you have no right to make assumptions.”
I turned and went to the next row where Ankit was sitting. “Jaanvi is crying,” said I.
“Why? What happened?” he stood up.
“She’s reading a book that is making her cry and I have no idea why she’s still reading it.”
Ankit saw the cover of the novel Jaanvi was still holding. “Ah! The Notebook . . . it’s a good one.”
“See? I told you,” Jaanvi smirked.
“You guys are . . . are lovesick!” I said for the lack of a better word. My vocabulary isn’t all that great.
“Oh? And what are you? If I remember correctly, you were fighting with some unknown prick for a guy just moments ago,” Jaanvi challenged.
“That was because I was getting bored.”
“And there aren’t other ways to pass time? Fool someone else,” she turned to Nilaap and said, “Let’s go” before holding his arm and storming off.
She always did that. Stomping her feet and storming off was her trademark. Even then we’d be sitting together just minutes later for the next lecture.
“I really was getting bored,” I was left to explain Ankit.
He nodded silently.
Later that night, I noticed that several other girls who were no doubt fans of VJ Ron, had also commented on Ronit’s Status. It looked like there was a big fight going on between the girls and Samarth. He’d literally asked for it; telling Ronit that he ‘sucked’ on his own status. Fans were bound to get angry and react.
Vatsala Rathore: Oh my! Seems like people are talking here! Having fun guys?
Ronit Oberoi: I sure am! ;)
Vatsala Rathore: Girls fighting for you . . . Enjoying the scene, huh? :P
Ronit Oberoi: You bet! :D :P
Vatsala Rathore: Who wouldn’t? ;)
Chat-5
Get A Girlfriend!
September 12th, 2010
That day, I exchanged a word with Ronit. When I say a word, I mean a word. And two smileys.
At one of his Photos, someone (I don’t remember his name, so let’s call him Jack Sparrow) had commented:
Jack Sparrow: You look SO ugly :P :P
Vatsala Rathore: Disagree with Jack. You look Fab ;)
Ronit Oberoi: @ Vatsala: Thanks :D :D
&nb
sp; Vatsala Rathore: Pleasure! :)
It was a Sunday and I was with Ankit, in his room, watching a cricket match between Royal Challengers Bangalore and Guyana. We were supporting RCB. Not that we were big fans of the team, but it had more Indian players and their name sounded familiar.
“Remember the talk we had a few days back?” I asked Ankit.
“Which one?”
“The one in which I told you to get a girlfriend.”
“Oh. Yes, I do.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Found one yet?”
“I wasn’t searching.”
“I was. And guess what . . .”
“Don’t tell me you found someone.”
“I sure did. A perfect match,” I announced, quite proud of myself.
“Not interested,” he declared.
“What! Why?”
“Just like that.”
“Good reason.”
He shrugged.
“But really, let me at least introduce you two. Maybe you’ll like her . . .” I tried to coax him.
“Not likely.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have psychic powers.”
“Was I supposed to laugh at that? Moron. Meet her once. I know she’s perfect for you. You won’t find a girl as sweet as her.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Hell no!” I shouted. “Don’t say that ever again.” I was going through a phase when I wanted to project myself as a bad girl. Being called sweet was a mortal insult.
Ankit rolled his eyes.
“What? I’m serious. Don’t meet her if you don’t want to but at least don’t call me sweet.”
“Extremely sorry,” he mocked.
“Meet her – your punishment.”
“I would do almost anything for you, but not this.”
“Almost anything?” I challenged.
“Anything.”
I made him sit facing me, with his back to the television, till the match was over. And I did an extremely exaggerated version of commentary of what was happening in the match, just to make him want to watch it more.
It did work up to some extent, but I think he was pretty content with looking at me instead.
The pirate replied the next day:
Jack Sparrow: Anything to attract his attention, haan? You know the photo is BAD.