Love@Facebook

by Nikita Singh

  That night, as I looked at the photos of Jaanvi’s love bite, I resolved never to let Ronit (or anyone for that matter) give me one. Who in his right mind would like to be bitten and be clawed at? Wouldn’t it hurt?

  When I asked Jaanvi this question, she agreed that it did hurt and teamed it with something like ‘there’s pleasure in the pain.’

  I was suddenly reminded of Enrique Iglesias. ‘Maybe I just wanna hurt you, the sweetest pleasure is pain.’

  And I once used to like that song. Frigging unbelievable.

  What was happening to the human race? The whole ‘Evolution of Man’ theory . . . was it a flow chart or a cycle? Human beings were turning into apes again. Bloody animals!

  Chat-20

  Eyeliner & Cigarettes

  November 20th, 2010

  “Eyeliner & Cigarettes,” I said. “That’s the title of Ronit’s upcoming book.”

  “What kind of title is that?” Akansha mused.

  “No idea. But he said the novel is about him. So—”

  “Really? It’s his true story?”

  “He said so. It’s written in first person and the protagonist is named Ronit too.” I proudly gave away the information – Privileged information. Now that Jaanvi was so engrossed in her happening love life and I could hardly discuss the Ronit front of my life with Ankit, Akansha was my only available option.

  And she turned out to be a good listener, hanging onto every word I said with profound interest. That was the first time we had talked on phone and the call lasted for over an hour.

  She said something which made me feel marginally less insane. Just when I was about to hang up, she said, “It was so refreshing talking to you. You know, my friends are so fed up with my talks about Ronit, even mentioning his name in front of them is a taboo now.”

  “Tell me about it. Story of our lives,” I replied. “Hey, did you see that Photo he uploaded today?”

  “Which one?”

  “He uploaded just one. It is awesome. I can just go on and on about it. He has this broad smile on his face, that adorable dimple, wearing all black, blurred lights in the background . . . His best picture ever!”

  “Let me check.”

  “Don’t miss! It’s absolutely breathtaking. I couldn’t breathe for ages after I first looked at it. Literally.”

  By the time we hung up, I knew a lot about her and it was a welcome change, talking to someone new. The number of enemies I had superseded the number of friends I had remarkably, owing to my too frank and undiplomatic – and many a time unbelievably rude and arrogant – behaviour. Ahh! Despicable me!

  In fact, my mother, Jaanvi and Ankit were the only people who were actually close to me. Even that was because of their own generous decision to bear with me and stick by my side no matter what. They loved me for reasons that were beyond me. I don’t know what they saw in me that was worth loving. But whatever it was, I thanked God for it.

  And I found Akansha very different. We bonded, although all we had in common was a crush on Ronit. She was from Amritsar and even though she wasn’t a Punjabi, she spoke their language very well (not that I could have known otherwise!). She had a strange Punjabi accent which was immensely cute and childlike. (And I no longer had an issue with the word cute!)

  After keeping the phone down, I went through her Photos, too. The only photo of her I’d seen before then was her Display Picture, which was very hazy and didn’t allow much. It could’ve been any girl; half Indian girls have same gross structure.

  “Who is she?” a voice asked from behind.

  “Akansha Sharma. I told you about her . . .” I answered Jaanvi.

  “Huh?” she gave a blank expression.

  “The one who sent me a Friend Request after we chatted at Ronit’s Status,” I elaborated.

  “Oh yes! Making friends on Facebook, eh?”

  “She’s nice. Anyway, what brings you here? Aren’t you busy kissing or biting?” I teased.

  “Not today!” she laughed. “I had something important to discuss . . . .”

  “What is it?” I asked after I put my laptop in sleep mode.

  “Ronit. What’s going on?”

  I knew this was coming, just hadn’t expected it this soon. Although I had known Ankit for twice as long time as her, she was way closer to him. They were caring people, people who actually liked interaction and respected everyone’s feelings and emotions.

  And I . . . no matter how hard I tried – and I didn’t try very hard at all – I couldn’t bring myself to care. About people, their feelings, relationships . . . Very few people mattered to me. I was a loner and was genuinely happy that way.

  And I didn’t fit in. Period.

  I was one of a kind. Maybe God had realised his mistake after creating me and never repeated it. There simply wasn’t anyone like me. That was the reason why I never had a best friend. Even though I somehow did make a few friends, I could never keep the friendship. I didn’t know how to.

  And then Ankit came into my life; my first best friend. The friendship hadn’t shattered like before, for a sole reason – Ankit didn’t let that happen. He was one person in the world who actually understood me, who actually accepted me and loved me with all my flaws.

  Much like my father—Much like my dead father.

  Growing up, I hadn’t minded all the broken friendships because I knew that no matter what happened, I had him, my father. I had him and I cared for nothing else. Not anymore. His death had destroyed me. Keeping Maa company wasn’t my sole reason for staying back at Ranchi for graduation. As much as I hated leaving Maa alone in such a time, I also couldn’t bear staying away from her. I needed someone I could love and who’d love me back unconditionally.

  Ankit had understood all this and decided to stay with me. I had tried to change his mind by convincing him that I’d be alright, but my inability to make and keep friends wasn’t unknown to him. He had stayed with me during the worst phase of my life.

  When we joined college and met Jaanvi, there were times when I and Jaanvi had been ready to slit each other’s throat. The only thing that kept us from doing so was Ankit’s approach to keep things cool. He used emotional blackmail on the one who understood emotions, Jaanvi. And soon there came a time when I could do almost anything to her, and her only reaction would be a saccharine sweet smile.

  However, after the rough first few months, we had grown on each other. I got another best friend, courtesy of the first one.

  And now, even though I could claim that I meant more to Ankit, compared to Jaanvi and he knew me better than her, I couldn’t say I knew Ankit better than Jaanvi. And although emotionally ill-equipped that I was, it somehow bothered me.

  She couldn’t understand why I didn’t return his feelings. She thought we were perfect for each other, that we complemented each other. I had no idea what it meant.

  It didn’t matter anymore anyway, I had made my decision and it was time to be honest.

  “I love him.”

  “What?”

  “I love him,” I repeated.

  “You love Ronit? You love Ronit? You love. . . .”

  “Repeating the same sentence, emphasising a different word each time won’t change a thing. Yes Jaanvi, I love Ronit. I have decided.”

  “Decided? How can someone decide such a thing? And you of all people! Do you even know the meaning of love?” she burst out.

  “Hey, just because I don’t love Ankit doesn’t mean I don’t know the meaning of love!”

  “Don’t drag Ankit into this. We are discussing you and Ronit here. Stay on the topic.”

  “Okay.”

  She released a breath, as if to calm herself. “Why do you think you love him?”

  “I just do. He’s smart, good-looking, fun to talk to . . . you know. . . .He has a good sense of humour . . .”

  “I can say the same things about Ankit, among a hundred other qualities.”

  “Now you’re bringing Ankit in.”

  “I just mea
nt generally. . . .Like there are loads of other guys with all the things you said. What’s so special about Ronit?”

  “He’s just special . . . I can’t explain . . . there’s a spark between us . . .”

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “I don’t know how to explain. I just know that I love him.”

  She looked exasperated at first but consequently calmed down a little. She couldn’t afford to lose her power of speech this time; there was no one else to do the talking for her! She finally regained enough calm to pose another question. “Ok. So we’ll assume that you do love him for real. What about him? Does he return your feelings?”

  “I’m not sure . . .”

  “Elaborate.”

  “He knows me by now. Yesterday, he said he missed my Comments on his Photos. When I Posted Comments on them this morning, he replied to all of them with thanks and smileys. And he normally doesn’t acknowledge every Comment with replies, you know that—”

  “But that doesn’t count to anything!”

  “He knows me, Jaanvi. It does—”

  “Are you sure? He knows how many siblings you have?”

  “I have none!”

  “He knows that?”

  I shook my head.

  “He knows what your favourite movie is? And novel? Music? Music is like THE most important thing in your life, he knows that? He knows about your unusual affinity to blood? And the smell of beedi smoke? He knows that you love eating? Or that you hate make-up? That you hate girls who act like girls? That—”

  “Stop it. All these things don’t matter.”

  “Look who’s talking! Why did you start listening to Iron Maiden and Metallica then?”

  “Just to have things to talk about,” I answered truthfully.

  “Already short of things to talk about?”

  “You don’t understand. He’s my type of person.”

  “What’s your type?”

  “You know the novel he’s writing . . . It’s titled ‘Eyeliner & Cigarettes’. If Ankit wrote one, I’m sure he’ll name it something like ‘Rainbow and Butterflies’.”

  “Where did Ankit come from?”

  I ignored her. “Ankit is a type of person, who watches a movie like Hellboy 2 and notices that song . . . What was its name? Can’t Live Without You?”

  “Can’t Smile Without You,” she corrected.

  “Yeah, that. Pathetic. I mean, when Hellboy sang it, it was justified; he was drunk. But what possible reason could Ankit have for loving that song? And This Girl? When I listened to Step Up 3D soundtrack, I didn’t even notice that song! And he chose ‘This Girl’ over ‘Take Your Shirt Off’ and ‘Club Can’t Handle Me’? How is that—”

  “Take Your. . . .Reminds me of. . . .Catch you later!” Jaanvi said and just like that, she was gone.

  What was that? I wondered. Fearing that she’d spill the beans, I sent her an SMS as soon as she left.

  Vatsala: Don’t tell Ankit anything about Ronit yet. I want to tell him myself . . .

  Jaanvi: As you wish :)

  The emoticon she sent wasn’t :x or :/, so she wasn’t angry with me anymore. Phew!

  I logged onto Facebook and sent Ronit a Message telling him how much I adored the picture he uploaded that day, to which he replied,

  Ronit: :) :) Just being kind you!!! :P :P :P

  How can someone be so humble? How?

  Chat-21

  Closer...

  November 21st, 2010

  When I saw Ronit online, I craved to talk to him. Problem was, I didn’t have anything to talk about. I hadn’t become a metal fan by then!

  Vatsala: Hey . . .

  Ronit: Hey!

  Vatsala: Watched Dabangg?

  Or Golmaal 3?

  Just wondering . . .

  Ronit: The former, yes!

  Thrice, I guess ;)

  Awesome!!

  Vatsala: Yeah, I wasn’t a big Salman fan before . . .

  I am now!

  I might’ve started liking Salman a little after Dabanng, but I still preferred Shah Rukh to Salman. Salman didn’t have a hope in hell to ever match what SRK has achieved. One of the reasons I loved him so was also that he said at Koffee With Karan that God has given him everything he asked for and a lot more, but just not the ability to make and keep friends. We had that in common. He inspired me. He motivated me to achieve things in life even with the flaw we’d been blessed with.

  Anyway, back to that conversation. . .

  Ronit: Hehe! :P :P

  Vatsala: I liked G-3 more though!

  Ronit: Will watch it when I come to Mumbai :D

  Vatsala: You’re coming to India?

  Ronit: Yes!

  First week of December.

  Vatsala: So we’ll get to see you on MTV again?

  Ronit: Ohh yeah!

  Later Akansha told me that he was coming to India for good. The shooting for his movie in Sydney was wrapped up.

  So that meant Ronit would be closer to me than before, geographically. It made me immensely happy.

  “Come to my place,” Jaanvi ordered on the phone.

  “Okay,” I agreed without asking any questions because I was getting bored anyway. BBA students get quite accustomed to vella-panti, and it was a Sunday anyway.

  When I reached Jaanvi’s house (correction – bungalow, that monster of a residence cannot be called house!), Nilaap came to the gate to receive me.

  “Hi,” I greeted.

  “Hey! They’re waiting for us in the basement.”

  “They?”

  “Jaanvi and Ankit. She said she had a surprise for us . . . wouldn’t let me in . . . until you came . . .”

  I caught only a few words from what Nilaap was saying, my mind was elsewhere. Did Jaanvi tell Ankit about Ronit? Had they planned a confrontation? In front of Nilaap? Or maybe they’d finally realised that they should date each other and so they decided to break the news to Nilaap and me together . . .

  Where do such thoughts come in my mind from?

  What they had in store was more of a surprise and less of a shock – they had been interested in new dance forms and they wanted to show us what they’d been rehearsing. They performed a fusion of street dance, bey-boying and hip hop. I was stunned.

  I mean – sure – I knew both of them were amazing dancers, but this . . . this was a novelty even for them. Whenever they danced together, they mostly opted for contemporary or salsa. As solo performers, Ankit was awesome at hip hop and Jaanvi at traditional Indian dance styles.

  This was something I never knew they could do. Ankit, who was already so good at hip hop, stole the show while Jaanvi (when I finally did notice her after tearing my eyes off Ankit) danced with such grace . . . Grace, in street dance!

  They were both sensational.

  And the music. Take Your Shirt Off. When the song was about to end and T-Pain said ‘Take Your Shirt Off’ for the last time, Ankit actually did that. He took his T-shirt off. Delicious! (I sometimes wonder why I use the adjectives used for food while referring to both Ankit and Ronit. Edible. Yum. Mouth-watering. Delicious).

  I told you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he someday revealed some solid packs beneath his T-shirts, didn’t I?

  I almost fainted.

  After the music ended, Jaanvi came to me and whispered, “You’re in deep shit, eh?”

  I didn’t know what that meant, so I decided to ignore it altogether. I had other, more pressing, thoughts on my mind, “You told him?”

  “What?”

  “About yesterday! This song, I mentioned it just—”

  “Yeah. As if we rehearsed the whole dance in just one day, idiot!” she said and left me there standing alone, to go to Nilaap. “How was it?” I heard her ask him.

  After Ankit put on his T-shirt again, I went to him.

  “Hey,” I said. Seriously, why was I blushing?

  “Hi. So? What do you think?” he asked.

  “It was out of the world. I had no idea you dance so w
ell. Since when have you been practising this?” I was breathing right again.

  “About a month, I guess. Maybe a little over it,” he replied.

  “It was as if right out of some Step Up movie. You guys are fabulous!” My heartbeat had returned to its normal pace.

  “Come on! You’re exaggerating,” he smiled.

  It’s not only Ronit who could be humble.

  “No. I’m serious,” I looked down. I was shy of meeting his eyes. I repeat – I was shy of meeting his eyes. What was happening to me?

  “Thank you. Means a lot,” Ankit said.

  “We’re going out. Are you guys coming?” Jaanvi asked, motioning please-say-no with her eyes.

  “No,” I answered for both of us, granting her her wish. “You guys go ahead.” I turned to Ankit and asked, “Do you have time?”

  “For?”

  I couldn’t think of anything. I just wanted to be with him, spend some time with him . . . Shallow that I was, one mind-blowing dance performance, one glimpse of that alluring body and selection of one ‘my-type’ of song was all it took to blow me away.

  I was seeing Ankit in a new light and I could feel the changes in myself too, I was turning into a girl type of a girl.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if I start liking Sugar tomorrow, I thought.

  “Nothing special. Just like that . . .” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

  “Sure. How about—”

  “No. I don’t want to go to Ecstasy today. I don’t want to eat.” That was a first.

  He raised his eyebrows, “I wasn’t about to suggest Ecstasy—”

  “Let’s go to your place. Terrace. We’ll just sit and talk.” That was something we did when we were in school and after my father’s death. It had been a long time since we’d done that, and I had forgotten how nice it felt.

  Sitting there under the shade of a green coloured fibre roof, I was taken back to a time lost in memories. A time which had brought me close to Ankit. But the time I had that day surpassed every precious memory.

  “I didn’t remember it being so good,” I confessed.

  “I do,” he replied.

  “I guess I missed it.” Which was true. Sometimes it’s not until you get something back that you realise how much you had been missing it.