The REAL "CONNECT"...

She sat on the sofa still. Twenty seconds… thirty seconds.. She realized that in order to restrain that bolt of lightning setting her temper to fire, she had to practice the ‘not-always-effective’ tip of counting till hundred. She closed her eyes; the lids almost wore the ragged sign of exhaustion. The black-rimmed specs with its crystal clear high powered lenses rested on her sharp nose as the gazelle eyes behind them made a desperate effort to see the world revolving within the brightest galaxy of her spacious mind. An ambitious aura surrounded her whenever she sat to work and she preferred a perfect quietude to prevail during that time. The cell phone beeped and there flashed the ‘deserving-only-disgust’ or DOD face of her boss. He was the last person on earth to whom she wished to talk at that hour. The hard task master that he was he wouldn’t let anyone working in his office to even breathe in peace.

She took a few seconds to gather her composure, cleared her throat touched the back of her hand on the cup of coffee that went cold and finally received the call. And before she could say ‘hello’, the DOD spat out his words as if he would be constipated for the next few days if he didn’t vomit what he had to say in one hastened single breath. It took some time before her vocal cords could regain their original vibration. She spoke in a tone which despite being soft, exuded a rare determination that somehow made her boss elated for having an employee as talented and dedicated as her under him. “Yes, sir. It’ll be done by today. I’ll send the edited copy via mail to Shubhankar tonight. He said he’ll get the illustrations done by tomorrow. So, you needn’t worry about that column of ‘Elegance’.” Mr DOD (though his name was “Mr Manish Manchalwar”, what could be more suitable for the boss at the ‘Elegance’ magazine office other than DOD ?The name was coined by Shubhankar, the chief layout and graphic artist).

Kavya, let out a long sigh. The long journey imprinted its side effects on her eyes and heels. I must complete the task by tonight, she resolved. She switched on her laptop and opened MS  Word. She was just about to type the first few words when the screen went black. And that was it. Frantic attempts to switch it on, charging its battery and following a few advices poured in by friends through the cell phone didn’t help. When disasters strike, they sometimes leave you so crippled that you can’t even make an effort to escape. She was new to the town she had just arrived at a few hours back. Adding to her agony, she was all alone. She put on her shirt, ran her fingers through her tresses, added a tint of pink to her lips, wore her stilettos and set out.

Once on the road, she began scanning the area. She had been once to this place before for some work and stayed in the same hotel. But changes are so rampant that if you don’t oft-visit a place, you tend to forget everything. The Manager at the hotel told her that she would find an Internet Café if she walked a little distance.  Exactly as he said, she saw the glaring sign board reading “Mintu’s Net Palace”. She wondered whether the inclusion of the owner’s name (she assumed Mintu to be the owner’s name) on the sign board attracted more customers to his café. She signed in the register where one had to write one’s name and time of entry in the café. She scrutinized the place. The café was more ancient than the monuments of India of which we Indians are so proud of. There were about ten cabins, each housing a computer. Whenever someone typed, you could actually hear the loose worn out keys of the keyboard being pressed. At the centre of the roof, a fan brandished its slow dancing moves. She was shown a computer at the corner and she settled down there. It took a couple of minutes for the program to start. She breathed in a long breath, although it was not worth it. A person sitting in a nearby cabin was stinking, thanks to his socks which could even drive rats nuts if they came near them to gnaw them (what an an effective rat-repellant!)

She had been working on the story for some time now. It would be a little different this time, emanating to a great extent from her heart rather than her brain unlike previous ones. But she didn’t know how to end it- ‘happily-ever-after’ type or ‘all-stories-don’t-have-a-happy-ending’ type. Nevertheless, her swift fingers initiated a move and the words took shape. She started typing the mail.

"In Search of a Soul mate"

"This is an anonymous girl’s saga. I often search for that ‘perfect My Fairytale Prince’ to sweep me off my feet. But the fact is, while I juggle with my career, choices and hope, I end up being single. We girls, sometimes.. just can’t figure out the perfect ‘he’ from amidst the crowd. Sometimes we are so confused about this whole thing of falling in love that we find ourselves reduced to a minion when compared to the whole big concept of it. Choosing one person to accompany you all along the peaks and valleys of life is indeed a great decision to make. This however, doesn’t apply to those who like experimenting on hearts, who don’t think twice before entering into or out of a commitment. And with  Mark Zuckerberg’s wonder child facebook in play, the whole quagmire of falling in love and out of it has become as easy as pressing a key and pronouncing oneself  ‘single’ from ‘in a relationship’, literally….”

Suddenly, everything went dark except the computer screens. The voice of the owner sounded, “Oh, current chala gaya. Generator bhi kharab he. Aab kam se kam ek ghanta toh lagega hi current wapas aane me. Aap logon ko computer switch off karna padega.” Kavya frowned. She was not even half way through her story when the power-cut occurred. She quickly sent the e-mail but before doing so, added a few more words- “I am done. This story’s never going to end and the boss wants it tonight.”

She waited for a good half an hour outside the café, drank a cuppa in the nearby stall, but the current still didn’t come. Besides, it was late- 9:30 pm and her eyes hadn’t stopped burning and her soles didn’t stop paining. She didn’t want to take a risk at that hour of the night in a not-so-familiar place and hurried to the hotel.

All she could do after reaching her room was sleep until it was morning and the landline rang. “Madam, what are you taking for breakfast today?” She recollected that she had survived on only a cup of cappuccino, a sandwich and a cup of coffee the previous day. “Umm, yes. I’ll take a cup of strong black tea and an aloo parantha.” Her headache had accompanied her to wish her in the morning and realized all she needed to do was relax for the next couple of days. Her work had taken a toll on her happiness, and to a great extent-her health and life itself. She switched off her phone, lest DOD would show up his face again and remind her of her task. She said to herself ‘I’ve always been so sincere, let’s see how it feels to break loose once in a while.’

Two days later, she was in a mall selecting a few clothes.  The cell beeped. For once, she thought she would ignore it. But the very next moment, picked it up instinctively. “Hey, Miss Elegant, you almost disappeared from the scene. What happened? Saw the copy of ‘Elegance’ today? They are out on the stands and that’s an awesome story you wrote. I thought of sending you the blue-print of the whole issue but seems your laptop is still dead!” “What did you say, Shubhankar? My story? Oh, come on, I never wrote one this time.”

It took another half an hour for Kavya to grab hold of a copy of ‘Elegance’ from a nearby stall. Her eyes widened on reading the rest of the story…..

“At the other end of the server, sits Mr anonymous. Well, I don’t prefer facebook or technology to prove my love to anyone. I am just this simple guy who had a heart before the  this ‘Zucked era’ and have one even now. I am tech-savvy. I keep track of the latest smart phones available in the market, sell my old laptop to buy a new one every year, but that doesn’t mean I would sell or rather ‘give’ my heart to somebody more than once. Dear, Miss Anonymous, you needn’t perceive the idea that the whole lot of guys go gaga over fb and make and break friends there. As far as real friends are concerned, they are always near you. Just look around you. You may find your Mr. Perfect sitting somewhere near the water cooler in your office, stealing a glance at you. And sure wants to ask his ‘Miss Princess’ on a fairytale date but lacks the gut for he won’t be able to tolerate the sadness that may come if she says a shattering ‘no’. The whole real world of ‘ Social Networking Site’ is everywhere around you. And you can feel the real network between hearts and mind. Someone not belonging to the virtual world may be awaiting your answer in the real world."

Kavya sensed a dewdrop sensation on her cheek. How could her real life love story ever be complete without Mr. Anonymous- Mr. Shubhankar. She immediately typed a SMS on her cell and sent it to him. Shubhankar, still sitting on his office chair near the water cooler, smiled the happiest smile on reading the SMS – “Request accepted. Status- in a relationship with Mr. Anonymous.. Can we go out for coffee tomorrow? I’ll be reaching home today. J”