Love@Facebook

by Nikita Singh

  I meant something to him.

  But strangely, the thought didn’t affect me as it once used to do. The irony of the situation was that I fell in love with him every time I chatted with him. But that night, I talked to him via telephone and I didn’t feel even a tinge of emotion for him! Maybe everything else just fades when you have a boyfriend as hot as Ankit by your side.

  I do agree that I was overjoyed, but that had more to do with talking to a celebrity and knowing about the acknowledgement thing and less to do with talking to Ronit Oberoi Himself.

  I’m a strange, strange person.

  Things took a turn for worse after that.

  Next night, I gave him a call which he didn’t pick up.

  The night after that, I sent him a Message on Facebook.

  Vatsala: Am I ever going to get that interview? I don’t know when to call you . . .

  He replied on my cell phone.

  Ronit: I’ll call you tomorrow!!!!

  Sorry for the missed calls! Been lazy and busy!!!!

  I doubted it was Ronit himself. He was using unusually large number on exclamatory marks. Whose number did he give me? Oh God! Who did I give my number to?

  Vatsala: Ok . . . sure :)

  And BTW, missed call, singular! I didn’t want to seem too excited/desperate!! :P

  Ronit: Hehe! :P :P

  That was more like him! He did that a lot, that ‘Hehe! :P :P’ thing! I could almost connect to that!

  The next day, however, he didn’t call. I was facing real big troubles with my novel. I decided to guess answers to the questions I wanted to ask him about his character, but there were several other places where I was stuck. And I didn’t know any other writer!

  I sent him an SMS asking the word count of his Eyeliner and Cigarettes.

  He didn’t reply.

  I received an SMS from Akansha.

  Akansha: What’s up?

  Vatsala: Sick of everything :(

  Akansha: What happened?

  Vatsala: The novel . . . it’s going nowhere. I hate it.

  Akansha: Don’t say that! Can I help?

  Vatsala: I wish . . . but I need Ronit . . .

  Akansha: So he didn’t call?

  Vatsala: You figured that out all by yourself? Genius!

  Akansha: Hehe! You call him? Or send a message to remind?

  Vatsala: No way. Never again.

  I don’t understand why he sent me his number if he never intended to talk.

  Akansha: I have an intuition that he gave you his number, but when he told someone about it, that someone didn’t like it . . .

  Vatsala: If that’s the case, then his girl is VERY INSECURE. Or his guy. He’s gay.

  Akansha: Hahaha! Send him a rude message?

  Vatsala: Yeah, saying, ‘It’s a good thing you’re gay, you are going to be kicked at places that’d render your THING useless anyway!’ That’d get his attention, don’t you think?

  Akansha: ARE YOU NUTS???

  Vatsala: Hahaha! Totally! The biggest nutcase ever! :P

  We bitched about Ronit for another half an hour, then—

  Akansha: I sent him a message . . . let’s see if he replies!!

  Vatsala: OMG! Don’t tell me! What did you say?

  Akansha: Will tell when he replies . . .

  Vatsala: TELL ME RIGHT NOW. You’re killing me here.

  Akansha: Just asked him to call you as you’re upset . . .

  Vatsala: Upset? He’ll think I’m weak!

  Akansha: Shut up! You made up of iron or what? Can’t be weak!!

  Vatsala: :P :P You’re just wasting time. BET! He won’t reply.

  We had a bet. Akansha had thought Ronit will reply if two of his biggest fans insisted. She didn’t know about the ‘cold and heartless jerk’ incident. Too bad for her, she lost!

  Akansha: He didn’t reply :(

  Vatsala: Told ya! He likes ignoring people!

  Akansha: Huh! Mister uploaded his status when I messaged, but didn’t care to reply. Now I hate him too :x :x

  I love her for saying that. Although our friendship was something that started with our one similarity – a crush on Ronit Oberoi, we became good friends even after we started hating Ronit. Hell, she hated him only because of what he did to me. And that too when she didn’t know anything.

  Vatsala: Ah! Never mind!

  Akansha: He’s a CERTIFIED PRICK now! Afraid of a little competition, that’s what he is, I tell you!

  Vatsala: Hahaha!

  Akansha: Write a novel better than his. YOU HAVE TO!

  Vatsala: That’s a HUGE challenge. HUGE! Right now, I’m not sure I’m up to writing even a bad novel! It’s difficult, trust me!

  Akansha: Never give up. Tell me whenever and wherever you need me!

  Vatsala: Yeah, we’ll think of something. We don’t need him!

  Akansha: Exactly. That asshole. Fucking dickhead. Huh! :

  I was angry at Ronit and hated him with all my heart, but ask me to use slang adjectives for him. I can’t. I simply can’t. I had to change the topic.

  Vatsala: :P :P You’re on my acknowledgement list!

  Akansha: OH!! Glad! And Ronit?

  Vatsala: Off it! And off the dedication page too!

  Akansha: YOU WERE DEDICATING IT TO HIM??

  Vatsala: Hmmm . . . the book being about him . . . it seemed right . . . Not anymore!

  Akansha: His loss! He won’t ever find someone who’d dedicate her novel to him!!!

  It was hardly a sentimental dialogue. So I have no idea why tears filled my eyes instantaneously. I find figuring out sentiments hard; others’ or mine.

  The best response I could come up with was:

  Vatsala: :P :P

  Three days later, I received an SMS from Ronit telling the word count of Eyeliner & Cigarettes. I didn’t send him a thank you message. It wasn’t like he’d helped me or anything. I’d already made the calculations for my L@F by then.

  Jaanvi asked, “Your Ronit helped?”

  “Naah! And anyway, I hate him now. Forever!”

  “Another four-day-long forever?”

  I laughed and pulled her cheeks, “You’re funny!”

  “Hey, I know that you’ve changed a little . . . but this cheek-pulling thing is too mushy even for me!” We laughed.

  Amazingly, I somehow did complete the entire novel in fourteen days’ time. You’re holding it in your hand. When I and Jaanvi discussed it later, we both agreed that Love @ Facebook was supremely lame a title. We decided to stick to it nevertheless. Lame names are in! People dig them!

  Akansha was a big help. The chats I used to send her were of some use after all! She gave me the passwords (weird ones at that!) for her Yahoo mail! Account (FB sent backup mails to her that e-mail id) and her Facebook Account. So, she had all the chats I’d had with Ronit saved and I had entire Message Threads in my Facebook Account, as I never really could make myself delete a single Message from a certain guy who goes by the name of Ronit.

  And so, I completed the novel without Ronit’s help. Though my fingers itched to call him, I didn’t give in to the temptation even once. And trust me, it was difficult. Knowing he was just a phone call away, yet resisting tenaciously, for the sake of my self-esteem.

  And I was way too hurt.

  Our relationship lasted for six chats each in September and October, thirteen in November, seven in December and a few in January. (Plus about twenty more in the span of those five months that weren’t interesting enough to be featured in this book! And another string of Messages he chose to ignore.) In the duration of which, I fought for him with eleven people on his Wall/Photos/Status, ignored Friend Requests from nine people and Blocked five people. And believe me you, a couple of girls hit on me too! Ugh.

  And he Liked seventeen of my Photos (I still take pride in that figure! Seventeen is a big deal!)

  It ended with one call and a couple of no calls!

  I deleted my Comments from his Notes and from the Photos where they had gon
e unnoticed. I didn’t delete the ones to which he had replied though; it would’ve made him look like a fool, talking to himself! Ok, I agree I was tempted to do so more than once, during my bouts of anger! But I told you, I’m loyal and believe fans should be die-hard. Although I found it difficult to respect him as much as I once did, I’d be devastated if I somehow make him look bad in public. I would never betray anyone like that.

  After the phone call incident, the Ronit fever subsided so quickly that I found it hard to believe I ever fell for that guy, that there was a time when I literally worshipped him. He was like a God to me.

  He lost his charm by giving me his number and making himself too available. (Not that he received any of my calls!).

  I liked being his fan and dreaming about the bright future we’d have together. But when I actually got his number and thus a chance to be his friend, the prospect no longer allured me.

  Although I sometimes wished he didn’t know me at all. I missed posting silly Comments everywhere at his space.

  I missed being his fan.

  Epilogue

  Nothing Else Matters

  December 31st 2011 & New Year 2012

  Life at Mumbai didn’t turn out to be quite as scary as I’d imagined. I’ve rented a tiny apartment with a sweet Bengali girl, Chhavi. Chhavi works at my channel and is also a freelance model. She was recently cast in a shampoo ad in which her hair looked unbelievably dazzling. Animation is what haircare products’ ads thrive on.

  We both came to Mumbai from small towns and our languages underwent drastic changes. We’ve moved from my hum-tum and her aami-tumi to a more conventional main-tu. She’s trying to teach me Bengali and I’m trying to teach her Bhojpuri (though I don’t know the language very well myself!). We both know we’ll never be able to learn each other’s mother tongues, but trying to learn/teach never failed to give us a good laugh.

  And oh! She’s not afraid of small dragons and is an awesome cook. I’m in love with her. (No, not in that way, I’m perfectly straight!)

  After coming to Mumbai, I’ve come to love Ranchi’s weather. Compared to the brutal rainfall this city faces, Ranchi rains seem too feeble, almost like a cool breeze.

  Because of the humid atmosphere and pollution, I’ve even started to bathe more regularly.

  Ankit and I had moved here after completing our graduations. Ankit is presently pursuing MBA from S.P. Jain Institute, while owing to a stroke of good luck; I landed a job as an anchor at a leading News Channel. The show I hosted was about Bollywood stars, movies, music and TV gossip and was telecasted on weekends. Nothing big, but I meet plenty of Stars now. The biggest crush I’ve had since joining my job is on Hrithik Roshan. (I don’t have an issue with too-many-muscles anymore!)

  Avi doesn’t have a problem with my choice anymore. He adores Hrithik!

  I had not needed to become an RJ. Nor had I needed to take a degree in Mass Comm. And although I’m not a VJ on MTV as planned, I’m more than content with my present job. I have big plans for the future, of course! I have to become a Star, after all!

  Jaanvi decided that studying is too monotonous and boring for her to deal with anymore. That realisation and her royally screwed up CAT results made her decide to take her dancing seriously. So she set up dance classes at Ranchi where she taught all variants of dance to people of all ages and earned a pretty huge sum of money in return. Last I heard one of her students was putting the moves on her, if you know what I mean! And she’s going on a vacation to South Africa. The whole dance class thing turned out to be pretty lucrative! She is a Star in her own way!

  And Ronit?

  Yes, I eventually did forgive him for being a cold and heartless jerk and a certified prick. Mostly because I do understand now that one simply cannot be expected to pay a fan as much attention as I’d been expecting from him. The amount of attention he had been paying was already too much to ask for. So I let him off the hook.

  And yes, I’m still in touch with him; we chat about once a month. But the crush has blown over big time and he is history to me now. He lost his chance! Or so I like to think!

  His movie? As I said, when have VJs done anything good to themselves or the movie whenever they’d acted in one? Velvet Ropes was a big flop. I watched it thrice.

  His novel did pretty well though. (And my name really was there in the acknowledgements! I was thrilled. That was the first time I saw my name in print!) Eyeliner & Cigarettes topped the bestseller list for quite some time. I hated it. Hey come on, you already know I’m abnormally strange!

  For the obsession I once had with Ronit Oberoi, I hold no regrets – if something good comes out of a stupid crush, it’s worth it. Especially if that ‘something good’ is something as great as getting a respectable job, a good friend (Oh, Akansha and Tushar are still very much in love with each other!) and a loving, and more importantly HOT boyfriend, its hard to hold grudge!

  Though I do hope I’d run into Ronit somewhere someday. It’s a small world, and definitely smaller Mumbai!

  My doorbell chimes.

  “Hey,” I greet Ankit with a kiss and a hug.

  “Hi there!” I don’t let him call me Honey or Sweetie or Cutie Pie or the like. I’m not something to eat! (But mostly because such endearments remind me of things to eat and as you know, I’m eternally starved!).

  “I want to play something for you,” I take him by the hand and make him sit. Chhavi makes herself scarce, right after winking at me and motioning something X-rated and supremely vulgar with her hands.

  I had started taking guitar classes mostly because my job demanded very little time from me and paid me way too much. I had no idea what to do with the money and I have loads of time as Ankit is busy with his college most of the time.

  And the other reason is, obviously, my passion for music. If not a singer, maybe a DJ someday . . .

  This is the first time I am going to play something for Ankit. I have chosen Nothing Else Matters by Metallica for the occasion. After that one lapse of judgement exactly one year ago, I haven’t liked or listened to Wait For You or any other Pop song since. Well, with just one exception– Enrique has made his way back to my Walkman.

  Another good thing that came out of my stupid crush on Ronit was that I discovered Heavy Metal! I didn’t eat two meals the day I discovered that Metallica had retired and so had stopped performing. It broke my heart. So I bought all their DVDs and let myself listen to only one new song every week. This way, I can savour every song and the collection will last longer! Clever, haan?

  Though I love all songs by them, I have always been particularly partial to Nothing Else Matters. . . the lyrics called to me. . .

  So close, no matter how far

  Couldn’t be much more from the heart

  Forever trusting who we are

  And nothing else matters.

  I never opened myself this way

  Life is ours, we live it our way

  All these words I don’t just say

  And nothing else matters.

  Yeah, trust I seek and I find in you

  Everyday for us something new

  Open mind for a different view

  And nothing else matters.

  Never cared for what they do

  Never cared for what they know

  And I know.

  So close . . .

  Ankit gives me a standing ovation as I hit the last chords on my guitar.

  “You were wonderful.”

  “Come on, it wasn’t that good!” I smile. Modesty and humility are traits I’ve learned from Ronit.

  “It was.”

  “You’re just trying to flatter me to get into my pants!”

  “Damn! How do you always get to know?”

  “I read minds.”

  We kiss.

  I would not like to comment on the physical front of our relationship. All I’ll say is that I’ve made a few discoveries and I don’t find certain things gross anymore!

  And oh! In a completely u
nrelated way of physical relationship, I did get to punch him on open-jaw once and spray shaving foam (for the lack of pepper-spray) in his eyes at another occasion. I’d always wanted to try those. Amongst other things!

  He put up with all the crazy tantrums I throw, and I throw tantrums to keep him entertained.

  He brings me flowers every once in a while and I let him take advantage of me in return.

  He takes care of me when I fall sick and I feign bad health to grab all his care.

  He listens to my endless blabber and I blabber endlessly to get his attention!

  He loves me and I love him.

  Nothing else matters.

  SEPTEMBER

  OCTOBER

  NOVEMBER