Seven Shades of Grey (11 page)

In chat I told her to go back to the time when her husband had read the email sent to her by a friend, the one in which the stupid friend had professed undying love for her, knowing very well that she was married and a mother of two. I told her to recall her husband’s reactions that day. I pointed out that he could only react in the way that he did because of love. It would have been a perfect excuse to lose his temper, to yell at her or even more drastically, to leave her. He could have hurled a thousand allegations, and she could have spent several lifetimes explaining her innocence. But none of that had happened, and she was still happily married. Was it love or not, I asked her?

She responded by disconnecting from chat and picking up the phone to speak to me. Her voice cried that day, just as her soul probably did too. I tried my best to calm her, and she explained that the tears were of joy of knowing that there was someone who loved her that much. She promised that day forth she would look at her husband with the same eyes that Dolly looked at me. The phone call had to be short - it was long distance - but the glow never left me, never ceased to warm the cockles of my heart. Solitary Man had discovered love and had spread it to one other soul through the Internet. It made me feel wonderful and complete.

*

I continue to glow in this love, sitting motionless in the waiting room, awaiting another miracle of love to find its place in this mundane world, one that had been predicted by Insanity, the one I still refuse to confront. And confront it I must. It too is real, a part of me that cannot be erased, much like the time Reshma and Marilyn met each other.

*

7. East meets West

Whenever Dolly was away on her annual visits I spent more time reading making up for the one lost when she was around. Last year that had changed a bit as the Internet found its way into my life. Marilyn, Reshma were part of the daily fare followed by Bindu and occasionally Aviva. The common thread linking them to me was love, each of distinct genus, each a shade of bright yellow, hues of sunshine brought to my otherwise mundane and lonely life.

I had some self-imposed rules that I followed on the Net; I never discussed personal issues of one friend with the other. I firmly believed that thoughts shared with me by any one of them were meant for my eyes and ears only. Had they been for public consumption they would probably be posted on a website or a bulletin board. I followed this rule diligently, it having proven itself in the old world of flesh and bones too.

There were times, however, that I mentioned making a new friend or coming across a strange ID to this inner circle of friends. Most of them would ask for cursory details of location, marital status and age. Every one kept my rule in mind, steering clear of asking any kind of personal questions about the other.

Marilyn and Reshma were the closest to my heart, no doubt about that. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to introduce the two to each other. I could trust each one of them and was sure that they would be comfortable with the other in a chat room. My excitement grew when I thought of this prospect; it was another frontier that I could conquer, and another milestone on this journey of sailing uncharted waters on the Internet. The opportunity came soon.

Marilyn and Reshma were both online one afternoon, and I was trying really hard to keep pace with two independent private message screens. My typing skills had improved considerably what with the time I spent on the Net. I asked each one separately if they would like to get together in a three-way conference chat. Not surprisingly, both agreed.

*

A three-way conference! Not all were as pleasant, not all as comfortable; there was another lurking in the not-too-distant future of the first one! And I refuse to confront it. For now, with the pregnant ox for company, the barbers’ refuse on table and my ample frame shuffling in the chair, I will lose myself in the pleasant memories of that first conference, the one that showed me how much I was loved.

*

Marilyn was the one with the most time logged on the Net, and it was she who volunteered to create the conference room in cyberspace. She instructed me to click on the Join button, once an invitation window popped up on my screen. It popped and I clicked and was transported to another larger message window. I then sought instructions from her to get Reshma into the room. She explained the procedure and soon the three of us were in ‘conference’.

I felt like a proud father viewing his brood, more like a sheik admiring his harem. In real life I don’t think a situation like this could ever be created or more importantly controlled. A man… two women who loved him… in a room together? Unthinkable!

The Unthinkable became a reality that day!

I introduced the two and we were off to conquer new lands.

The two women got to know more about each other; each already possessed some cursory information to go by. As I watched the words flow from the two my heart beat faster. It was a test of sorts to me, even though I still believe that it was not one for them. The more they asked about each other the more convinced they were that I had shared only cursory information and that facts about me which were common knowledge to both were true. This seemed to cement the bond between them and me a little more, their subconscious registering that I was as honest as I claimed to be.

Get two women together and the men are soon forgotten. Such wonderful creatures that God had made and here were two of the best that I had seen, going at it hammer and tongs. I had to interject and remind the two that there was a third person in the room, the one they seemed to be ignoring, the one who had brought them together, ME! Both apologized and shifted their attention.

Marilyn asked me about life without my wife, Reshma lending support. I replied that I was coping well, had been reading a lot more and meditating a lot more than I normally did. It was here that they gave me a small glimpse of their spiritual side. I assumed that Reshma being a Hindu would naturally be into prayer, temple visits and meditation. She surprised me by saying that she did pray but rarely, temple visits were far and between, meditation was a subject she consciously stayed away from.

My presumption about Marilyn had been close to the one that most Easterners had about Westerners. I pictured her to be a carefree, liberated, bra-burning atheist.

Not true!

For the first time that day she spoke about her orthodox upbringing and how she had taught all those values to her five children. The entire family went to church on Sundays and observed all religious holidays with due respect and religious fervor. It surprised Reshma more than it did me, as I had come across pious people scattered all over the Western Hemisphere.

Reshma did not seem comfortable discussing matters of the spirit world, or at least that is what I gleaned when she changed the topic. She told Marilyn that she had been given a nickname by me. That made Marilyn laugh for she confessed that she had been given one too. Surprisingly the two names that I had given the two were similar. I called Reshma ‘Mirchee’ and Marilyn ‘Hot Tamale’, two flavors from two corners of the world, two beautiful humans with one common link, me. I spent the next few minutes explaining the meaning of the two names, to the two curious kittens.

Both laughed at the similarity even though I felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of my face. It was one thing for me to give nicknames to my friends; I was well within my rights to do that. But it was something alien to have two nicknamed friends reveal the name to the other; after all, these had been private. I did not want either of them feeling that I loved them any less just because I behaved in a similar fashion with the other. My fears were unfounded, for then started a lengthy discussion on me.

Marilyn was the one who started the ball rolling by revealing how much time I spent with her, how I made her smile whenever she was down and how I had continued to be friends even though she had been obstinate at times.

‘He is like a drug, gives you a great high and very addictive’ is how she described me. Reshma, not wanting to be left behind, responded by expressing similar sentiments. It did not stop at that.

Emboldened by the information that flowed in the room that day, both let loose a volley of praises about me. As I sat dumbstruck and mute I witnessed some of the most beautiful words ever written about me by ‘virtual’ friends and real-life-strangers. In their own way both revealed how much my interaction on the Net had changed their lives and how much each had grown to love me. Two strangers from two corners of the globe, at two different computers professing love for a third who was in equal measure a stranger. I felt the power of words I typed, felt the strength of honesty I professed, reinforcing my commitment to life in Cyberspace.

Where else could I find love like this?

It catered to none of the five basic senses, and yet it reached the core of the soul of strange IDs that represented a human hunched over a computer screen. A friend could love a friend in the world of flesh and bones because he could see the body, attach a name to a face, attach significance to a gesture, all of which was impossible on the Net. And yet here were two strangers who saw nothing but words that flowed on their computer screen and believed them.

Belief!

God cannot be seen, nor touched, he was nothing but a BELIEF!

Existence of the Lord could be seen in his creations, the power of words seen in the love felt by strangers.

It made me glow and made me teary-eyed.

The two promised to keep in touch, adding their respective IDs to their respective friend’s list. When it did end I was happy that it had gone well, happy that I could get two strangers to talk to each other and happy that in some small way I helped build bridges between people. But then I had no way to fathom the depth at which my interaction had affected them. When I did get to know I was shocked! The first indication came from Marilyn in the form of an email, one I never thought would ever arrive in my Inbox.

It was a day like any other in my life without my wife. I went to check my email and there was one from Marilyn titled ‘Your Hot Tamale’ and one that had an attachment. As I clicked it open, my eyes widened with bewilderment at what I read and saw.

Marilyn began the email by telling me how moved she had been by the conference the other day and how she wanted to do something special for her friend in cyberspace. She had decided to throw caution to the wind, burn the book with the New Rules for the New World and send me something that I had asked for long ago: her picture.

My dear Vik,

Can’t thank you enough for everything. Was really touched by you getting Reshma and me together, don’t know why but wanted to do something special for you.

I know u have waited a long time for this ... so here it is - a picture of your Hot Tamale ... I am sorry it is not a very good one ’cos I had it taken at the mall. I then took it to a friend’s place to get it scanned and then sent it to you. Panda does not know about this so please make sure it remains our secret. I might tell him someday but u please don’t mention this. I know ur wife also has been waiting for this. I guess I missed u so much that I wanted to do something special for u. I don’t think this is very special but I wanted to do it just for u.

I miss u,

Love,

Hot Tamale

As the picture slowly loaded on to my monitor a wave swept over me. I was a cocktail of emotions, touched, happy, moist-eyed and exhilarated. It had taken months to get the picture and in itself it meant little. But that small gesture stood for something much bigger, something far more important than the insignificant amount of data space it occupied.

It represented trust, one that I had built with a stranger.

It represented love that this trust had given birth to.

It represented victory of my beliefs.

It was all this and more.

Mere words affecting a stranger halfway across the globe had already been amply demonstrated to me. But interaction of a clandestine nature to actually change the way a stranger viewed another stranger was something that I never bargained for. She had sent the picture without letting Panda know, a fact clearly mentioned in her email.

For a woman to do something against a set rule that governed her meant that somewhere in the depths of her soul she had been affected. Affected so strongly that she could actually contemplate and then execute change. At that very moment I knew that Marilyn and I had cemented a bond that would last a lifetime, even though she later sent me pictures of her entire family, Panda included.

It mattered little if we never got to see each other in the flesh, mattered little if we rarely got to chat again, for we had become a part of each other in a way that could only be conjectured and experienced first hand. And that too in cyberspace!

The conference had similarly changed Reshma too. We had come closer as humans and loved each other as only strangers on the Net could. She was to demonstrate this in her own characteristic hot and fiery way.

It was about a week later on a Monday that I found an offline message on my Messenger. It was from Reshma, brief and curt.

Delta2000
: will not chat with u again … had a fight with hubby … keep in touch with email

I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach; it felt like a prize fighter had landed a right hook knocking my breath out.

Was I the cause of the fight?

My mind raced conjuring up images of Reshma scarlet with anger, husband firm unyielding, both locking horns together over god knows what. I fervently hoped it was not over me. I reveled in the fact that I made someone happy, dreaded and hated to be the cause of any kind of grief, more so to one who lived in cyberspace. While still lost in this sea of emotions, Messenger informed me that Reshma was online. I quickly opened a messenger window and asked her to explain the message she left me. She responded by telling me that she would tell me all in an email, and before I could send another word she disconnected.

The rest of the day I waited with bated breath for the email to arrive. I was tempted to call her at her office on the telephone, fear preventing me from turning thought into action. My wait ended later that evening when the email arrived in my Inbox. It explained events that occurred over the weekend.

They had a few friends over for dinner on Saturday night, where booze flowed like water, her husband taking several baths. By late night he was too drunk to sleep, logged on to the Net and was lost chatting to strangers. She had tried to woo him to bed, failing miserably; and
feeling hurt had fallen asleep. Around 4 a.m. she had awoken with a start to find hubby still sitting at the computer, chatting. She, furious and concerned, commanded him to get to bed. No other words were exchanged before he crawled in, and yet she could tell that he was not amused at her fiery outburst.

S
he was up around nine the next morning, while he cuddled like a baby in bed. She let him sleep for another hour while she busied herself with her daily chores. At ten she tried to resurrect him only to hear him plead for some more time in bed. Her fiery temper got the better of her, and she let him sleep, refusing to wake him up till he awoke from his slumber on his own. The time was four in the afternoon. And then all hell broke loose.