Love@Facebook

by Nikita Singh

  I didn’t contact Ronit for full nine days. No Chat, no Message, no Comment . . . not even a Poke. I was kind of proud of myself; it felt like I’d set a record or something.

  But it didn’t seem to affect Ronit in the least. It was like he wasn’t even aware that a certain Vatsala existed.

  It might’ve been true too, but I refused to accept the chances of it being so. It wasn’t like I didn’t have any effect on his life whatsoever. I did.

  Or so I liked to think.

  I preferred being happy living a lie than accepting the bitter reality and hurt.

  I put my ego aside (which wasn’t very easy, if you’re talking about me; I had HUGE self-esteem issues) and posted a Comment at one of his Photos, hoping he’d notice. He didn’t.

  I posted another.

  Vatsala: Go on . . . Keep ignoring me . . .

  Ronit: Oh, I am so not!

  He had been. After I’d posted my first Comment, three other people had too and he had replied to each one of them. He just didn’t reply to my Comment. And he said he wasn’t ignoring me. Who was he kidding?

  The worst thing when you Comment somewhere is that whenever someone else posts a Comment after you, you get a Notification.

  And when it’s Ronit’s Photo, a lot of people Comment. And you get a lot of Notifications.

  As I told you before, there weren’t many photos of Ronit I didn’t Comment on, so you can imagine the number of Notifications I received everyday.

  In the photo I’m referring to, Ronit was covered head to toe. The weather seemed quite cold wherever he was (in the Photo). The only visible part of his body was his eyes. And someone had actually complimented him on that picture, saying he looked good.

  I was angry at Ronit, but I don’t have any justification for posting this Comment:

  Vatsala: See? People think you’re looking good . . .

  I mean, how much of you is even VISIBLE!

  Lesser you expose, better you look!

  Cool :P

  I’d added that emoticon as an afterthought, so that I do not sound rude.

  As expected, Ronit ignored my Comment. Nitish, (the guy who had said Ronit looked good in that Photo) however, could not ignore it.

  I had a huge fight with him. Huge. At least fifty Comments long, I am sure. By the end of which, he had started using slangs. If he had expected me to do the same, I disappointed him big time. I replied to his long, disturbed, explicit comments with my short, stupid ones like “Whoa!”, “You write well, should be a writer” and “Easy girl! You’re getting all hyper.” This infuriated him even more, especially when I called him a girl. His Comments got longer and contained larger number of slangs than before.

  And where was Ronit all this while? I’m clueless. But he did delete all the Comments by the time Nitish got really hyper and I got really bored.

  Nitish didn’t leave me alone, however. He started sending me Messages. And Friend Request. Maybe he liked fighting with me; I could come up with no other reason to justify the Friend Request he sent me.

  I had to Block him too.

  Picking up a fight with a stranger and being mean to him didn’t help me vent the anger I felt for Ronit. Facebook was useless. I logged out.

  I was bored. I digged into the meagre amount of chocolates I’d received on my birthday. They lasted this long only because Maa had hidden them from me and forgotten where. She thinks I eat too much . . . Ahem.

  Let me explain why I received a meagre quantity of chocolates – you see, there was an unwritten rule – whenever you gift something to a girl, you accompany it with goodies like chocolates, candies, flowers, cards, soft toys and stuff like that. The rule didn’t apply in my case. Not because I felt it was tacky or anything, everyone just assumed so.

  This was one cheesy thing I didn’t mind. But I couldn’t really blame people for assuming so. This one attribute of mine was completely in contrast with my character. Except for the stuffed animals (eww!), I adored every other item on the list.

  Chocolates and candies, because I’m such a foodie. Cards, for reasons above me. And flowers, because they’re beautiful and I simply love them.

  But – pathetic as it may seem – I’d never received flowers from anyone in my entire life. Not that my life was over yet . . . but in all the nineteen years of my existence . . . not a single bud.

  As more depressing thoughts threatened to cloud my mood, which was already dipping at the lowest point possible, I packed up those chocolates, started my Scooty Pep and got to Jaanvi’s place.

  “Hey,” she greeted as she let me in.

  “In a mood to get fat?” I waved the chocolates in front of her.

  “Sure,” she said. She wouldn’t get fat, those extra calories would be taken care of by all the dancing she did.

  I might. I didn’t – or rather couldn’t – dance.

  But chocolates were more important. And we’re talking about Ferrero Rocher and Toblerone here. That’s the kind of chocolates you receive when it’s your birthday. Bless Ankit’s soul, oh the power above!

  We attacked them.

  My mood lifted considerably after all that chocolate-hogging.

  Chat-11

  Drunk

  October 17th, 2010

  Dusshera. I logged into my FB account before going to sleep. I noticed Ronit was online, but I ignored him purposefully. This time, my ego was right there, sitting next to me. Big and fat.

  He started the Chat that day.

  Ronit: The lesser I expose, the better I look, eh?

  Oh! You remember me. Am I supposed to feel privileged?

  Vatsala: Not really.

  I use one full stop in Chats only when I don’t want to continue the conversation.

  Ronit: Hey, you didn’t upload your photos?

  He remembers? I was flattered, but still angry. And anyway, he didn’t upload his either.

  Vatsala: No, I didn’t.

  Ronit: Denied me an eye candy :(

  Okay, now I was really flattered. I changed the topic.

  Vatsala: :) Happy Dusshera, BTW! :)

  Ronit: Same to you :)

  Vatsala: Don’t you miss India? During festivals and all?

  Ronit: Actually I’m pretty content at the moment.

  Just got back from the bar!

  Vatsala: OH! What time is it there?

  Ronit: 2:30 a.m.

  Vatsala: :)

  I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Ronit: I’m so drunk right now! Wanna take advantage??

  Vatsala: AHA!! I just wish you were here!

  Ronit: Let’s just assume I AM THERE WITH YOU!

  Now tell me, what would you do?! ;) ;)

  Vatsala: Gosh! You’re drunk, I’m not!! :P :P

  Oh my god! Oh my god! OH MY GOD!

  Ronit: Guess I’m just unlucky :(

  What are you thinking, Vatsala? Do something . . . he’s drunk. When are you going to get such an opportunity again? At least ask him something you’d never ask if he’s sober!

  Vatsala: Are you committed?

  Ronit: Not at this second :D :D

  I really wasn’t sure what that meant! Not right now, in the middle of the night? Not this weekend? Or not generally?

  Vatsala: Have you ever been in love? Like truly and madly??

  Ronit: BLAH!

  Vatsala: Hahaha :D I thought I’d pry some info out of you. Letting such an opportunity go . . .

  Such a waste!! ;) :P

  Ronit: You wish! :P

  After I’d made it sure that I was interested in taking ‘advantage’ of him, he seemed to have gotten in a mood to be taken advantage of too. He sent me some – shall we say, ill-equipped Messages.

  Vatsala: You sent me a message?

  Ronit: Yup :D :D

  Why was he so happy? Weirdo!

  Vatsala: It had a subject saying ‘hey’ . . . No body??

  Ronit: What? I attached something . . .

  Vatsala: There isn’t anything . . . :(
/>   Ronit: Wait . . .

  He sent me another Message.

  Ronit: Now??

  Vatsala: This time, the subject says ‘hi’ . . . STILL NO BODY . . .

  Ronit: FB’s acting up, I guess!

  Vatsala: Oh hell! I won’t be able to catch you drunk again! :( :(

  Ronit: Hehe! :P :P

  Vatsala: Has leejiye! You’re the celeb . . . you won’t know . . .

  I don’t know what’s with mothers! What’s wrong with chatting at midnight? How does it make any difference?

  Vatsala: Hate to say . . .

  Ronit: What?

  Vatsala: g2g :(

  Ronit: Shit! Anyway, catch you later! :)

  Vatsala: Maa is really flipping out . . .

  Ronit: So go!

  Vatsala: Bye :)

  Aargh! This was by far my longest conversation with Ronit and I had to end it because of my mother. Dusshera, family time. I’d spent the whole day with family. How could it hurt anyone if I spent some time chatting to someone non-family for a change? Moms, I tell you!

  I never got to know what the ‘something’ that Ronit was trying to attach to the Messages was.

  I was devastated.

  ¸¸¸

  October 18th, 2010

  When I recounted the Chat to Jaanvi and Ankit, they were both unusually quiet. While Jaanvi did enter appropriate adjectives in between and made proper noises at certain places, I noticed that Ankit was strangely mute.

  I met Jaanvi’s eyes and raised my eyebrows questioningly, to which she thrust out her lower lip to suggest I-have-no-idea.

  We soon got to know. To be precise, when I got to the part where Ronit had started sending me those ill-equipped Messages. At that point, Ankit said just four words before standing up and leaving.

  “Just stop it, okay?”

  He was gone before I could register what he meant by ‘it’ and react. Actually, stupid that I was, I didn’t understand what he meant at all. Jaanvi had to explain it to me.

  “What was that?” I wondered aloud.

  “This must be so hard for him . . .”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You singing praises of Ronit all the time. Why did you have to tell him the entire conversation you had with Ronit?”

  “I tell him everything,” I said simply.

  “Then would you be kind enough to keep your nonsensical blabbering to yourself just where Ronit is concerned?”

  “Why are you getting so hyper?” I had nothing better to say.

  “Because he’s hurt. You’re hurting him.”

  “I don’t mean to!” I tried defending myself.

  “Doesn’t matter what your intentions are; rotten or pure. Bottom line is that he is hurt. I cannot let that continue. So you, ma’am, will you keep your colourful love life to yourself and let the poor guy be?”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to listen,” she cut me off, stomped her foot and stormed off. Told you; her trademark!

  I didn’t brood over that incident too much. All I did was asking myself one simple question and made my decision accordingly. Who was more important? Ankit or Ronit?

  Ankit, who had stayed with me no matter what, put up with all the crazy tantrums I threw, endured the brunt of my anger even when he wasn’t the one to be blamed, lent an ear and listened to all my useless tattle and still cared about me so much and loved me like crazy?

  Or Ronit? Hey, wait . . . who was Ronit, again? Some random celebrity who sometimes replied to my messages and who was interesting to chat with and provided me with some stimulating conversations?

  I didn’t even take outward appearances into account. Well, actually, I did!

  Ankit had looks that could kill. Ronit might have dimples to die for and that perfectly trimmed body . . . but then, I hadn’t seen Ankit’s body, had I? With all that dancing he did and sports he played, I wouldn’t be surprised if he someday revealed some solid packs from beneath his Tees.

  The choice was pretty easy. Compared to Ankit, Ronit didn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter Ronit closed.

  Easier said than done.

  Chat-12

  Champagne

  October 29th, 2010

  It went smoothly in the beginning, but as the days went by, staying away from Ronit got more and more difficult. I’d started missing him.

  I had spent so much time checking out his Profile in the last two months that it had become almost a habit for me.

  But who said I couldn’t check out his Profile now? I could do that anytime and as many times as I wanted without anyone being any wiser.

  This was a big advantage of Facebook over Orkut (amongst a million others!). In Orkut, if you visit someone’s Profile, he gets to know about it. Not in Facebook. Here, you can visit someone’s Profile as many times as you wished without anyone getting any wiser.

  But I had other reasons for not visiting Ronit’s profile. I knew that if I did, I was bound to come across things (Status, Wall Posts, Quizzes, Photos, et al) that’d make me want to Comment. And if something even mildly interesting happened after that, I won’t be able to shut up about it. I’ll tell Ankit and . . .

  So I kept away from the temptation.

  Then, on the eleventh morning, the temptation was just too much to take anymore. I had to send him a Message.

  Reason? He Liked my photos. Are you listening? He Liked my photos! Four of them! I was positively elated.

  “I mean, Ronit Oberoi himself visited my Profile, checked out my Photos Albums, went through my Photos and Liked four of them. Isn’t that insane?” I shouted when I met Jaanvi at college that day.

  “Ronit Oberoi himself?” she repeated with a super bored expression on her face.

  “Yes! This is huge!” I tried to make her understand.

  “But himself? You use that term when you refer to a superstar, like The King Khan Shahrukh himself. But Ronit? Really?”

  “Whatever. You’re just jealous.” I knew she wasn’t. But the gravity of the situation didn’t seem to hit her at all. What’s with her?

  “As if!”

  But soon the class started and we dropped the topic.

  It was a Thursday, which meant we had a PD (Personality Development) class. Our college had this policy – every Thursday, we had a two hour long seminar to hone our conversational skills, English language usage and for the development of our personalities. Expert professionals were invited to take guest lectures and help us build our confidence by interactive sessions in a comfortable yet world-class environment.

  It was all bullshit.

  We bunked all PD classes as an unspoken rule. The so-called expert professionals knew less about English than most of the students. And the active interaction constituted of them targeting weaker students from the lot and grilling them till they are too ashamed to attend college again, let alone the seminars. What kind of sadistic approach was that? Kicking someone to the ground to make themselves look taller and all-knowing, confident, powerful professionals with personalities to envy!

  Though they had never had the chance to target us, I, Jaanvi and Ankit had decided after the second seminar we’d attended that that was the last we’d ever attend. Those PD people really got on our nerves.

  On that day, while the seminar was being conducted, we were networking on a social networking site. Do I even have to mention its name?

  Sure, we weren’t allowed to use Facebook on our college computer labs and measures had been taken to see to it. But then, what are proxy sites for?

  And the lab attendant? I can’t tell you how understanding he was about all this. Helping us bunk, letting us bypass the security block and connect Facebook . . . he was a gem. Hundred bucks a month and he’d promptly risk his job for you! Don’t we just love bribery? It has become a fundamental element of Indian lifestyle.

  Ankit and I took seats opposite each other. Jaanvi wasn’t there. She was bunking, alright, but not with us. With Nilaap. Something was co
oking. I could smell it.

  As soon as I logged into my FB account, I sent Ronit a Message – my first in eleven days.

  Vatsala: Thanks :D

  Ronit: Pleasure!

  Is he online all day all night long? Doesn’t he ever sleep? Is he a vampire? WOW! Just like my Edward!

  He never took more than a few minutes to reply. When he did care to reply, that is!

  Sometime later, something came up on my Homepage that made my mouth pop open in disbelief. Were my eyes playing tricks with me? Or my brain . . . was it working properly? Wait, did I even have a brain?

  Ankit Rai commented on Ronit Oberoi’s photo.

  Ankit: Magnificence beyond imagination . . .

  Vatsala: @Ankit – LMAO!! Unbelievable :))

  Ankit: @Vatsala – That was for the background . . .

  Vatsala: I figured ;) You’d probably prefer dying than . . . :P

  Ankit: Yeah, of course . . .

  Vatsala: You have major attitude adjustment issues, you know?! :D

  Ankit: Actually, I don’t like fake comments . . . :)

  Vatsala: Aa-haan. I hear you! ;)

  He leant sideways so I could see him. I winked, he made a face and we went back to our computers.

  Avi sent me a Message.

  Abhimanyu: Come online . . .

  Vatsala: I am online! Duh!

  Abhimanyu: On chat!!

  Vatsala: Oh . . . see you at Gtalk!

  In the name of operating system, my college computers had Windows XP installed. We were living in ancient times! And that also meant that I couldn’t chat on FB chat box.

  I signed into Gmail.

  Abhimanyu: Champagne??

  Vatsala: Huh?

  Abhimanyu: Your status . . .

  Vatsala: Oh, yeah!

  Abhimanyu: What does it mean?

  Vatsala: Girl thing :P

  Abhimanyu: Shudup! Tell me . . .

  Vatsala: Arey, there was this ‘secret message’ between girls . . .

  Each drink represented her relationship status . . .

  Abhimanyu: And champagne means?

  Vatsala: That I have a huge crush!

  Abhimanyu: Who’s he?

  Boys! And brothers, at that! Oh, I forgot to tell you – Abhimanyu aka Avi is my cousin. Just forty-two days older to me but a typical big brother. And it just happened to be that his hobby was making life hell for me!

  Vatsala: You’ll never know!!