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.