A day without internet

Internet is our lifeline, and there’s no doubt about that. Everyday after getting up in the morning, we check our mails, our orkut scraps and then wash our face. Everything else takes a backseat, when it comes to sitting on the desk and browsing. It doesn’t matter what we are looking for in the prodigious pool of information, and sometimes we don’t even know what we want. But the eternal satisfaction of auto login, restore session and the vastness of information keeps us glued to our PC’s. And obviously there are days, when netscan shows ZERO results, ping refuses to reply and our desperate eyes wait for the soothing words, ‘Reply from a.b.c.d: Bytes 32 time<1ms TTL=62. Oh this beautiful message, whose absence brings us to a standstill. You might be wondering why I am writing all this. Anyhow, we all know what happens when net doesn’t work, so what’s the fun in reading this long post.

If you are planning to leave, wait. This is not about us, but only a few of us, a few of us who are fortunate enough to find themselves in cupid’s cage, those who are stung by its sweet arrow, those who thank kamdev for his long lasting blessing , and those who adore the God of love Eros. Its about our sweet little love birds. Am I going to talk about all of them? Obviously not. This is about a sweet friend of mine, who just toppled over a conspicuous glance to find himself in the lap of Goddess Aphrodite. After an enchanting experience of falling over his enchantress, he joined the league of those who bask in the glory of internet, those who breathe IM-gtalk and those who find F11 as the most comely key on their keyboard. And as he started floating in the fragrant air, IM messaging became his lifeline.

One morning, on a bright sunny day he woke up, smiling, ignorant about the malfunctioning router. Some people say that ignorance is bliss. He must have realized it that day. The day started. Switch on the computer, gtalk icon still gray, double click net-scan tool, ping 172.31.X.Y, reply from 172.31.X.1 ‘ no route to host’, ping 172.31.X.Z, again no route to host, scan all proxies, no reply. “This damn net stops working when we need it the most, kya sada hua college hai yar, chalo naha ke aate hain. Tab tak net chal jaayega”. A quick trip to bathroom, he kissed the water and returned with towel on his waist. gtalk icon still gray, double click-net scan, ping 172.31.X.Y, reply from 172.31.X.1, ‘ no route to host’, ping 172.31.X.Z, same result. “Bhak”. A quick tour to the adjacent room, where the guy hadn’t switched on his comp. “Is the net working”; “The comp is switched off”; “comp band kar ke kya karte ho room par, CS main kyon ho?”. Towel still hanging on his waist, he started realizing the grim reality and frustration started crippling his mind. A quick trip to next room, “Is the net working”, and a quick reply “No yar, it may start in a few minutes”. Left click, status connected, packets send 125, received 2 !!. Left click, Disable. Left click, open network connections, left click Enable. status connected, packets send 10, received 0. This beautiful zero seemed like an ostrich’s egg, frying on his head. Suddenly he realized the truth of bright morning turning into a Stygian gloom. But there was still some hope. He dressed up quickly, (couldn’t find his underwear, so managed without it!) and decided to go to SAC to restart the router. 1p.m. in the day, scorching sun, Love is blind, but we can obviously feel the sun through other senses. Probably these senses also stopped responding for him. In the router room, everything seemed to work fine, green lights flickering candidly. He pressed the UPS button, and it refused to respond, but the router had to be restarted, a violent pull of the power cord, replugging and he was done. Finally the router started restarting itself, and he returned with desperate hope, happily sipping his Appy Fizz.

A double click, net scan, this time form 0 to 255, may be the servers have changed. Zero replies. gtalk still grey, ping ping ping ping ping…., till the processor started complaining, “Temperature above threshold”, the processor shouting “aaaaaooooooooooooooo”, perchance not realizing that the one operating him is competing with him. In the meanwhile, a little mosquito smelled the hot blood. Rising from the ashes, he took off for a midday’s feast. Pricking into his skin, he felt the twinge, scratched on the remotest corner of his leg, and he scratched too hard, blood drop started trickling form the point, and the mosquito took a return flight. A final try, left click, right click, enable, disable, pinggggg, the forlorn hope seemed to die, the tranquility seemed to say good bye and he was facing the austere reality, the net won’t work today; uncomfortably numb, the blood clotted, and in desperation he scratched again, and this time the blood refused to come out.

“What to do now?” He didn’t have a huge log of past chats. But still it was good enough to pass some time. Double click, tools, folder options, view, show hidden files and folders, my computer, G:\, files, …… a series of dozen double clicks to locate the personal memories hidden in the remotest corner of the hard disk, lips that were set in a pout of annoyance, suddenly showed a grin smile. A sense of Deja-vu gripped his senses, an ephemeral smile and chats are over. Double click, tools, folder options, view, do not show hidden files and folders. Tired after tonnes of clicks and all those dreary memories he decided to sleep. But the anger refused to sleep with him, as he started the slandering the college again. ” kya college hai yar, addha time batti nahi rehti, kabhi bhi net chala jaata hai, sada hua campus, itni garmi, *********** bhak“. I am happy for not being in his room, at that instant of time. A poor little house fly had to incur the wrath of his temperament, who decided to sit on his thighs and he squashed it hard between his hands, finally got some solace. Someone has said it right, actions speak louder than words!!

In his dreams, he found himself caught in the web of computer folders, like a fly in the cobweb, flapping hard to come out of the trap, and he woke up, his pillow wet with the sweat, desert cooler in the dearth of water, turned his room into a hot desert. “Its already 6:00 in the evening. The net might have started working now”. But the gtalk is still gray. He bunked the ping procedure this time. The UPS started shouting “Tiiiiiiiiiiiiii”, and a power cut, the last thing that he aspired for knocked on his door. This time he was too tired to abuse anyone. A routine visit to SAC to fill the stomach killed some of his time, but the uneasiness was visible on his face, like a newly wed couple in the dearth of nuptial bliss. Neither the relationship was public to spend time in nesci, nor did he have any tariff packages to initiate a long phone call. The only support of net, which nourishes the budding relationships had betrayed him that day.

Back in the room, netscan all, zero replies, ping 172.31.X.Y “no route to host”, let’s watch a movie, double click dc++,search, avi, sort by size, “koi achi movie batao be“, close, search, romantic, serendipity. “Lets watch Serendipity. Eyes glued on to screen, mind wondering elsewhere, suddenly a voice shouts from outside ” Oye khana khane chal raha hai kya?”, “nahi yar, bhook si nahi hai, hagga type khana banta hai”, he decided to spend his time in solitude. There came a bunch of other guys in an hour, “Chal yar hot seat karni hai” ,”aaj man nahi, kal karenge”. Without food, and water (both in cooler and bottle), he sat in his room for the rest of the night, as I heard some songs leaking through the walls.

The absence of the coveted bliss turned his life upside down for a moment. A virulent poison of net addiction, aggravated by the budding liaison, killed him for a day. Before I slept I heard the following words of the song ‘Be with you’ “I can’t sleep I am up all night, Through these tears I try to smile, I know the touch of your hand can save my life…… just wanna be with you”.Next morning the net was normal and so was he. He came to my room and asked me for some cotton and Dettol, and I heard him saying ” kal saala paaon main koi keeda kaat liya, khoon nikal raha hai“. The mosquito? and I couldn’t stop smiling.

If Only

“Hostel to college, college to hostel, a laborious session of technical classes, college life is heading towards a monotonous routine. After toiling hard for two years, I never expected this sort of life in the college. Life in colleges is fun (at least as shown in our flamboyant cinema. Canteens, girls masti all around)”. Standing in the scorching sun, thoughts jostled my head against my heart, pondering over the decision to study in this college. A feeling of guilt amid native nostalgia made the sun hotter than it was. Her sudden appearance jolted me out of this useless reverie, as she came walking, briskly, books held in an obvious position, pinned to her budding bosoms, kajal visible on the edges of lucid eyes, a sky blue suit stitched to perfection, affirming the revelation by calculated concealability. I cannot think of anything special in her that held my vision for that moment, but there must have been something that held it , my eyes deciding not to blink, fighting against the drop of trickling sweat, as this moment may not come again. I saw her lowering her eyes in order to avoid the conspicuous glance. Perhaps it was not her, but the moment I saw her, that made this meeting a tryst, a perpetual event of my destiny. As I was tired of searching for solace in the unexpected college life, her ephemeral presence obviated the quest for that comfort zone. The mortal moment that, in future, shall become the cause of an eternal agony, brought my world to a stand still for that tick of clock. I don’t remember any other incident making this sort of long lasting impression in such short span of time. As I pinned my eyes on the ’soul immortal’ slipping again in the comfortable zone of my reverie, a sudden thump on the back of my head lurched me out again. “Kaun si achi lagi…?”(which one did u like), asked one of the seniors and I couldn’t stop myself from blushing. The other seniors, trying to fill some colors in the monotonous life, asked some of my other pals to run to those walking girls and ask their names, and I silently wished to be a part of this assignment. The wish was never fulfilled, had it been, the story would have taken an altogether different course, but destiny had its own manifestation plans.

The wish of knowing her name was not fulfilled, and I did not know if it would be materialized. I spent a few more days in the sun, waiting for the guard to escort us back to the hostel, hoping for another glance. She never appeared when I wanted her to, but the hope made the sun’s heat bearable. I kept the tropical sun at bay, while passing my time in the forlorn hope. The time passed, minutes moving like seconds, hours passing like minutes in the busy schedule of the college. An year passed with only a few sporadic moments, when I intentionally slipped into the vague fading memories of the past, trying to capture the essence of that day, and trying to prevent the dissolution of the golden moments into the acid of the past.

The ‘immortal soul’ faded, appearing spasmodically in the fraternal talks of crush and love. It became a fancied manoeuvre of staying in the conversation, exaggerated to suit the tone and lustre of the talk. The actualization of spoken words, was something that I read in fiction, but the life had something in store for me. Yet again she appeared in the most unexpected moment, in the most unexpected place, in the most unorthodox way. Again the heart and the mind started jostling, mind revising the moments of the past and heart throbbing, urging my mind to focus on the present. The connected fraternal gossips stated encircling my head, and heart started collecting them, impressing them like never before, the impressions that will never be deleted, that will never fade and never hesitate to haunt. Unlike the past, this appearance was not ephemeral but eternal. She showed up regularly and from now on was to show up regularly. I stole a glance regularly, and from now on I was to steal it regularly. I continued with my self assigned assignment, enthusiastically, without her knowing the presence of her image in my heart, perhaps without my knowing the presence my image in her heart. Telepathic connection was down for a considerable time, until I say my reflection in her eyes and the vice versa. The heart and the mind coordinated, deciding not to jostle (at least this time). The eyes met the eyes, the heart communicated with the heart and her presence comforted the affluent soul. The silent conversation obviated the need for spoken words. The silence spoke, softly, communicating all the needful. The two hearts moved in tandem and it was just a matter of time before they become one.

The silence has its own limits, and cannot preclude the necessity of the spoken words. The apprehension of the fact demanded its manifestation but the dearth of grit, chocked the voice. The words asphyxiated on the orifice. I knew what was there in my heart, she knew what was in her heart, she knew what was there in my heart, but it was me who failed to feel her heart. The love-charm, unable to exude out of the crevice, followed a passage, a purgatory passage, reached the hades, where the souls burnt, stifled in the absence of solace, smothered to a point of death. A vacuous of passing the parchment culminated the dream, the parchment acting as a red card, knocking the player out, pushing him into the solitude, the solitude of guilt. The magic of parchment battled with the strength of her hatred of love. As she waited relentlessly for me to break the silence, I succumbed fatuously, succumbed to my own ineptness and her pleading eyes looked into my eyes, this time it was me lowering my eyes to avoid a glance, a glance full of pity and remorse, the pity of fear of losing her, leading to the remorse of losing her. I gathered all the courage, the courage to shed all this pity and remorse, and to head for the moment where no one will lower the eyes, but in the absence of tenability, the courage lost its validity. The two hearts met, and the third one whined. I looked in her eyes, the eyes saying that she waited for too long, the eyes that belong to some one else, the eyes that will be kissed by the lips not mine, the eyes that were willing to love me, had I not botched the sail. The eyes saying.. if only..