F for Facebook Friend

The sun was particularly hot today. The heat was unbearable and yet I returned to office so that I could give details to the customer on time, but then my boss was in office. He always is, but that’s not the point today, it is about the events that unfolded.  He came to my desk as I was getting into the groove to provide details and asked,

“Hey! Ramesh, did you check my latest profile?”

“Erm… No I didn’t.”

“I know, I checked you haven’t liked it yet.”

“I will do once I send this to customer.”

“Oh! Yes, customer comes first but don’t forget I am your ‘internal customer,” and he went dancing back to his cabin. I’ve never liked Facebook as such but I have an account so that I don’t get stares from the world for not having one.  Anyway, I completed my work and logged in to FB and went to boss’s profile, liked his picture and returned to home page. Most of my friends screamed from their Facebook walls how awesome their lives are in foreign lands. Another of mine was waging a war against corruption and other matters that my country keeps on fighting with. He has also gone for candle march over some major crime incidence. I doubt he ever voted in any election. I prefer stay away from this hullabaloo.

I was about to log out when a chat window popped up,

“Hi Ramesh! I am sorry, I should not have done this to you,” the message was from some girl whose name was Shefali. I took a closer look at profile but I couldn’t place her in memory. We shared a common hometown but I’ve seldom travelled there in past ten years. I sat there thinking, the girl was at risk, anyone could fool her. She had not thought about consequences of sending out a message to a stranger. So I replied,

“Hi! Who are you looking for?”

“ Are you Ramesh Thakur from district Rajali?”

“ I am, but I am sure I have never met you.”

“L”

“You know it is dangerous to send messages to strangers. Some people might lead you on and they might do wrong things with you. I sat there tapping my table and waiting for response. I already missed to reach on time to catch an empty local to Virar.  I’d decided to wait until rush hour passes and crowd wanes. I could see the illuminating green dot  on chat window. I knew she was online and I wanted a response. I typed,

“I don’t mean to scare you and I am not a bad person. I am just trying to caution you.”

“J”

A brief overview of profile told the girl is suicidal and seemed to be very young. I’d some experience of Yahoo chat rooms. I gave her more confidence by giving her my information,

“I am Ramesh, 33 years old and a bachelor. I work in a major corporate in marketing. My mom thinks I will never find a bride. J”

“Hahaha, Thank you, I haven’t laughed in long time,”

The response was in broken English, I added vowels and consonants at various places, mentally to make sense of it. She continued,

“I have gone through worse already. I met a boy in my medical college who took ‘bad’ photographs of me. I thought he will marry me but all that was a lie. My family will never forgive me. I have lost all my friend.”

Bad, What does she mean? I looked up for synonyms of Bad on Google.  I thought of asking her but it might annoy her. Then it struck like a lightening to me, what must have happened to her and trust me I felt a knot in my stomach as soon as I realized what ‘bad’ photographs meant.

“You there?”

“Yes…”

“Police arrested that boy and he has been thrown out of from college. No one wants to talk to me. I deserve it; I should not have dumped Ramesh. He was my boyfriend in school. He never touched me L”

“Please, it is not your mistake.  You should move on in life. Take up a hobby maybe?”

“No, I must apologies to Ramesh even if I will need to ping each and every Ramesh on Facebook.”

I looked at screen and then at watch. Time had passed quickly. I told her I need to take a quick exit as I must reach home before mom lodges a missing person complaint. She laughed atleast I would like to think so and said a goodbye.

As soon as I got down at Virar station, I bought a smart phone which I had avoided for eons. I looked at my small handy un-smart mobile phone which had been with me for 5 years or more.  Such a beauty, long battery life, great reception and no-one steals it. But then I wanted Facebook for mobile. The Smart phone was operational by 11.00 pm in the night. So much for a smart phone, I thought. To my surprise, Shefali was still online.  I pinged her,

“Hey,”

I counted time. Finally a response,

“Hi, I have an exam tomorrow, studying.”

“So, Shall I...”

The message was sent before I could complete the sentence… I was about to write unfinished line when a message came from her,

“Do you have GF?”

“No, but I had once.”

I spent whole night chatting away about my past, present and future plans. She told me how nice Ramesh was, and how he left Rajali because she dumped him and all and how much she had wronged him. I sympathized her and gave her a window to speak her mind. We used to chat whenever we got time. This went on for a month, and I knew I wanted to marry her. I asked her number several times but she would not give me. And then in desperation and hope I gave her my number but we continued to chat on FB. I was in desperate need for advice on relationships as the ‘game’ had changed and I was at a dead end. I‘d no friends to turn to, frankly. 

One day she messaged, “I am in Mumbai and I want to meet you.”

I responded back, “Where are you? Tell me. I will come and receive you.”

I was in seventh heaven, she had come to accept my love. I planned and re-planned how I would propose her. I even bought a small ring for her. She was a short and slim, we would look like Amitabh-Jaya, a famous Bollywood couple, thought I. Oh! My mind raced and how. I finally got hold of my emotions and realized she had not responded. She was offline. In roaming one does search for a free Wi-Fi especially when they are student.  I remained optimistic, waiting for her reply.

An hour passed — no reply.

Another passed.

One more.

And then I stopped counting.

 

Finally, phone rang! For the first time I heard her voice and I went into trance. Her voice was angelic and sweet like her.  I have no memory of what she spoke in the two minute monologue until I was knocked out by the word— Marriage.

 

“We got married, Ramesh!”

“What?” I blurted out.

 “I am sending a photo, check. I wanted to meet you but I am at the Mumbai airport. I should go back and Mummy Papa.  Thank you, Ramesh for being there.”

I hung up, I am not sure if she was still talking. The picture took some time to load. Finally it did, it was a selfie, she wore red ethnic Indian attire and her boyfriend wore an ashen look on his face.  I was done with Social Media, once again.

E For Elocution

‘Is the elocution ready?’

‘Sir, you forget that the government has placed various restrictions on you and one of them is giving speech at public gathering.’

‘No! Dear Avanta. You are a naïve boy but honest and loyal and that is the reason you are in this room. What you do not know is the Chief of Guards is visiting us tonight for a general chat. You should know this is confidential; you must not utter a word of it.

‘Oh! Master, forgive me for my ignorance. I shall make arrangements for evening.’

***

My master is son of a late politician who went by a ‘title’ ‘Agranya’. Agarnya had raised to power with support our community Ravas who are a majority in our state. Our community all the time feel the threats from Shanks who control most businesses in the city but Shanks are a minority. My community’s people work for Shanks to earn their living but Shanks are shrewd people. They exploit and harass our community. They marry their daughters to the choicest of Ravas and convert them to Shankite. Agranya rose to this occasion and called for various rules and regulations.  He was one of the most respected politicians in my childhood. But he was killed, no one knows who did it, and his son was a natural successor of his position. The son is exact replica of Agranya in looks, voice, and demeanor but lacks generosity and humility of his father.  

When Agranya got killed, blood shot in our veins and we were ready to revolt. One word from our Master and we would have brought down the government. But, Master chose otherwise, he said he wants to respect law and order. He assured his time would come soon.

In past five years, the government has brought more resolutions against him than finding who murdered Agranya. My Master lives in a gleam hope that he will rise to power with the radical speeches he gives and our media keeps giving them the coverage from time to time.

But, I — Avanta do not have any hope. I want to exit this mayhem and today is my chance. There has been a riot in one part of the city where the poor Shanks and Ravas live. They have fought over some pity ritual.  The government, who mainly represent Ravas — want my master to confront Shanks. A message they want my master to convey in a public gathering. That is the reason ‘Chief Of Guards’ visiting.

He will offer more money and a few more gatherings where my master will bring attention to the corruption in government and life will return to normalcy in our state. The Ravas will go back to work for Shanks and Shanks will lay low for time being.

Me, I will leave this state with the money Chief of Guard will give me for my Master’s expense.  My Master doesn’t lose as he gets to give his Elocution.

D For Dilemma

Life was much easier when I’d to select which chocolate to eat or a few years later what career choices I must make.  I’ve been always proud of my decisions, always.  I knew the ‘My way’ song by heart and then he walked into my life. Suddenly my life’s decisions were not mine.  They were to be shared or approved.  He approved my friends on social media, my career decisions, and what should I wear.
I can’t remember when I slipped into this downward spiral but by the time I knew, I was in neck deep in this mess.  I want control of my life back but I can’t take it unless...  So, I did what I do best, ask him —

‘What would you do?’

‘About what?’

‘Say, you are caught in a trap, it’s a maze. Every time you think you are close to an exit but you are not.  But, then the devil makes you an offer. Will you accept it?’

‘I don’t often understand these abstract questions you ask. Did you take your pills?’

‘I will take them; you answer my ‘abstract’ question.’

‘It will depend on the offer, frankly.’

‘Give me an answer…please. I will take those meds if you give me an answer.’

‘Ok…If I am desperate I will take the offer.’

‘Yes, I am desperate.’

‘What?’

‘Ummm… nothing.’

And then I went ahead with my plan.

C For Creativity

I finally reached the village where she lived. I'd seen her painting in a hotel in the capital and in that moment I knew, only she could teach art to my son. It was one of the paintings sold during her first exhibition held in the capital.  The exhibition was a grand success, they say. But it was her last exhibition too. She was lost into oblivion— No one knows, why?  Her search had taken me to various artist, art dealers, and galleries. They all had many tales to tell about her, most amusing among them was — she was mystical. Then one day I met an artist who claimed to be one of her student and he told me how to find her.

The cottage was secluded from rest of the village. The villagers called her witch but a good witch, they clarified. They said her soup were magical which cured people's illness and were no less than elixir for the people on death bed. Frankly, I do not buy into such theories for one reason; I have been educated by my family at home. I know when human mind cannot explain science of it then they call it magic, divine, mystical or paranormal.  The driver of the carriage left me in front of a huge garden.

The garden in front of the house had grown wild. It must have been left as is for years. There were various trees and plants, many of them were fruit or flower bearing,  and  some medicinal.I could see the Rose bush had grown wide and met the Jasmine and a vine rapped both plants, but the vine had dried out, actually most of the plants were dry as autumn had arrived. The vines were all over the place covering the plants; I presumed they were mostly weed. On one of the vine though, a purple flower bloomed. It was like a bright spot, standing tall to tell that spring is around the corner.

The wooden door was slight open and I pushed in to get inside. On my way here, I practiced hundred times over that I would fall on her feet and ask to take my son as apprentice but now I was I two minds. The place looked wreaked and I was not sure if I will send my son here. I entered with bated breath.

 Sculptures were scattered around in randomly in hallway. The ducks rested on side table were made of wood, the lion near the door at times seemed to roar and at times appeared to welcome a visitor. The lion was carved out of Marble. On the table I saw a sculpture of a young woman with her both hands on her waist, happy woman, almost alive.

‘May I help you,’ I looked at my host who now stood in front of me. She was much older than I'd imagined, her thick grey hair tied in a bun. Her eyes were covered with thick glasses. Lines had shown up on her face displaying ageing. She was shorter than me. She wore a black robe with a belt around her waist. She walked with a support a stick, yes she was very old.

‘Oh! I am sorry to intrude but the door…’ my voice trailed off.

‘You look tired. It must have been a long journey. I will make a soup for you.’

‘Thank you, I said.’My cheeks were red with embarrassment.  I am a civil woman, I’ve been taught to knock on door but this cottage, and the garden drew me in. But, that cannot be an excuse. This is an intrusion and absolutely uncalled behaviour.

She returned from kitchen with a glass of water. I gulped it. To break the ice, she asked what do I think of the painting on the wall across.

‘I am not a person who knows art.’

‘Don’t fret, you do know.’

I moved towards the large painting and looked at it closely; it was a form of art not many can understand, including me. Colours were splashed all over which made no sense until I saw two women on corner peeking at me and little above it a light shimmering from a black hole, I moved  further left and all I saw went back to what it was — a splash of colour. I began to marvel at little things popped out for a few moments and again merged back into it. I’d seen nothing like it before. I turned to tell her but realised she must know what she had drawn.

‘Here, the soup is ready.’

The soup lived upto its glory as told by one of her student and the villager. ‘This tastes magical,’ I said for lack of better metaphor.

The woman smiled and I was now completely at ease. I explained her that I would like my son to learn art from her.

‘It is not important,’ said she. She took my palms in her frail hands. She moved it them on me.

‘You look like an educated woman, a rarity these days.’

 I nodded.

‘Have you ever drawn?’

‘Oh! I cannot draw or carve anything. I am terrible. I am not creative.’

Do you play music?

‘I used to drum during the songs but nothing formal.’

‘So, you must be a singer.’

 I nodded in negation.  She is going to refuse apprenticeship to my son.

 ‘You have nice round fingers, and I know they told you long ago that you can’t draw, sing or play.’

I looked at her in astonishment and my eyes had welled up.  She was right in her observation, every time I picked up a hobby people laughed or coerced me into why I won’t be able to do it.

‘I think today’s lesson is over. Come back tomorrow with luggage.’

I got up, I couldn’t thank her enough.

B For Beggar

I for one always believed people should earn their money and not beg for it. But, a lot of my friend my friends think otherwise, one of them even said that I never had to sleep empty stomach and hence I do not know what a down trodden person goes through. True, probably.

I’ve been living in this so called city of dreams for a long time now. I know a lot of people throng this city in their hope to survive. People who have been uprooted from villages mostly due to lack of infrastructure or deeply rooted social structure.  I’ve seen them make living under the flyovers and footpath, selling books, toys and often felt helpless for being unable to do anything for their economical elevation. But, I’ve always stood against begging or giving money to children, especially. And then,

I met a transgender woman, who would meet me at Goregaon traffic signal daily and ask for money, every week. This went on for months. She was tall, broad, and dusky in features.  She wasn’t the most stylish or beautiful person in their lot as but she would come, twice a week, ask  in same tone and extend her palm for money. I would say,

‘No,’ in an angry tone or sometimes I might just smile, or be indifferent to her existence. It would be any range of emotions carried from home.

And then one day I was happy, very happy. I can’t recollect why but I was exuding happiness after a long time and it was visible. That day she came again,

‘de’

My hands went in my purse brought out a 10 Rupee note and I handed it over to her. She as usual without showing any emotion moved on to next person.  I felt, I rewarded her efforts of all these months. Frankly, I do not know why I gave her the money that day because next day — I didn’t.

A for Age

'Get this start-up below our belt,' I heard my boss as I got out of his car.

I turned to correct him to 'under our belt' but I stopped midway. Sanity got better off me, because I'd learned the golden rule — boss knows better than me. So, I just waved a good bye and said,

‘I never fail.’

‘Yes, After all you are coming of age, I can see. All the best.’

I went up to sixth floor swanky commercial complex where the prey waited for me. I was in great form and everything I touched these days turned to gold. I was smiling from ear to ear. This would be another feather in my cap.

 I headed to washroom as I always do to calm ‘bubbling kid’ in me, before the final negotiation and closed my eyes and remembered my first order as sales person. The first order I took was very special, I’d grabbed it single handedly from a major corporate without asking for help from seniors at my price. I’d confidently answered all queries which had all the right ‘words’ like brand, local service, quality standard etc.  I was a brainwashed kid then.

I opened my eyes looked at me in mirror and did a final touch up. I did appear older now. As I walked out of the washroom I saw a young girl accompany me.

She was me, oh! What an ugly face, thought I.

‘But I have a soul,’ said the younger me

‘Why did you come here, I came to see Nita who is coming of age.’

‘What do you think?’

‘Oh! You look pretty for the ugly mind of yours.’

That hurt! ‘What do you want?’

We had now reached the conference room and I was about to enter when she said,

‘These kids are honest bunch, they believe you and they believe in their business model, you will destroy them. Don't do it.”

‘They need money to stay afloat and anyone who will pay them will exploit them, then why shouldn’t I?”

And I went in. I saw her silhouette outside the room.

In the room sat young Karan with his attorney and partner. When I had met twenty two year old Karan for first time, I joked who names a kid— ‘Karan,’ and he had responded innocently his parents.

Today, His silky hair was moved in various directions and he wore rather somber colored blue blazer unlike stark black  which I wore.  He looked ‘cool’ in modern sense but he was much cooler and humble person.  I’d grown fond of him. I never let professional relationships interfere with my personal space but I’d like to meet Karan as a friend when we complete the deal.

I pushed agreement papers towards Karan which he gave it to his lawyer for a glance. The silhouette was still there. I was now feeling anxious. Karan spoke,

 '80% of founder leaves their start up after VCs takeover.'

'True.'

Karan looked at me, searching my eyes for an answer and I felt naked, those 1000 smart answers had deserted me. The silhouette seemed to smile cunningly.

Their lawyer gave a nod to papers; Karan signed them and walked towards me for customary handshake.

'I hope we are in good hands'

As I stood, I could feel my body wobble and finally words found me,

'No you are not and you won't be.' I tore the paper he signed in four parts. You should look for help within.  And I walked out of the conference room.

Once in open air I felt better looked at the sky – Yes, I have finally come of age.