The Damsel & The Damn Distress

Chapter 2

My mind wandered back to the lanes of 2013 as I wondered where to begin.

"I was scrolling through my Facebook home page... Err.. Yes, I was an avid user of Facebook back then. And I still don't have anything against Mark Zuckerberg, just to be clear." I looked at the metallic black digital clock, hanging above my bookshelf. Had Samaira been present, she would have trolled me to bits on my Facebook thing. I wondered what was taking her so long.

"Yes ma'am. Now continue," he said as he stretched his arms and settled down on the sofa. He could really do with some sleep, I figured.

"So, I was scrolling through my Facebook home page and..."

"Wait. Is this another Facebook love story?"

"First, this is not some limited-to-the-internet story. Second this is not a 'Love' story," I retorted, quoting 'Love' with my fingers, mid-air. Atleast not yet. My mind wanted to drift into the contemplation zone but I didn't let it. "And if you stop cutting me mid-sentences, you will know," I added, narrowing my eyes on him.

"Okay sorry. Now please start, will you?"

"Yes, but you have to promise that you won't interrupt me at all. If you need to ask something in between, you can raise your hand. But do not open your mouth, or I'll stop right there."

"Raise my hand? Like in school?"

"Yes, like in school. Now got it?"

"Got it!" he said, as he zipped his lips with his fingers, in thin air.

"Better!" I smiled.

                                  ***

July, 2013

Right after our intermediate results were out, it was time to decide what University would bring out the best in us. Some were spoilt for choice between universities and some were content with the only college they were accepted into. Some had even made up their minds to take another year of preparation for the courses they wanted to be in. Luckily, I belonged to the first kind. I was accepted into one of the best medical colleges in India and was quite happy with my achievement. After the entrance exams and before the counseling began, I had a lot of time in my hands which I whiled away lazily, sitting on my laptop.

It was another such slap-happy day. I was scrolling through my Facebook home page, randomly liking posts here and there. I looked up at the 'Friend Requests' icon. There was the number 57 written in red, right over it, right beside the 'Messages' icon which read 24. The usual dilemma - which one should I go for first? Not quite a dilemma after all, is it?

I dragged my pointer to the 'Friend Requests' one and clicked. There it was - Animesh Chatterjee, the only name with more than 15 mutual friends, amongst all others. I instantly went on to check his profile.

I clicked on the profile picture, and found a lean average-heighted boy, trying to pull the victory pose for the snap. His yellow framed spectacles seemed bigger than his square face, that had broken into a smile as broad as was possible. His hair was neatly combed with a side partition. Wearing a blue checked shirt, tucked into brown cotton pants, was how he had chosen to show up at what seemed like a wedding function, from the background decor. His red canvas shoes totally deviated from the combination.

I scrolled down and found many of my friends from my intermediate college, in his friend list. He probably must be one of those nerdy toppers, I assumed. My friends didn't just befriend anyone they came across.

I saw that he is from my hometown, Bhubaneswar. I kept scrolling through his posts. He seemed quite cool from what his Facebook posts portrayed. I thought, "What the hell!" and accepted his request. I sure didn't know what hell I was welcoming with open arms, back then.

                           -------------------

"Where the hell have you been? I have been trying to call you since forever. You have time to stay online 24*7, but you cannot pick up my call? Now where's my book?"

I was baffled by this text. "Do I even know this person? And what book is he talking about?" I asked myself.

"Excuse me? How do you even know me?" I replied, still trying to recall if I knew him by any chance.

Seen. But there was no reply. I sent a question mark again.

"I am so sorry. I took you to be my school friend, Yashika. She was Mohapatra though, and you are clearly Mishra. I have been trying to reach her since two days. I saw your profile in 'suggestions' today. You don't have your own picture on display, so I mistook you for her. Sorry again."

I shook my head as I typed, "It's alright. Happens."

"So, let us begin again. Hi, I am Animesh Chatterjee" he sent with a smiling emoji.

"Yashika MISHRA this side" I replied capitalizing my surname, to make it clear.

"Haha. Mishra, of course. Etched forever."
I smiled.

"So, what do you do Mishra ji?" he sent. Yes, every Mishra must have been addressed as Mishra ji, atleast once in their lifetime. If not, they are not Mishra enough.

"Finished with my 12th, now waiting for the admission process to begin at the universities. What about you?"

"Same here. How much did you score in your 12th boards?"

"94.6% What about you?"

"That was the highest score in your college, wasn't it? My my! A topper in the net!" he sent with a winking emoji.

"Yes. And thank you. But how do you know about it? I can also see that many of my batchmates are our mutual friends. How do you know them?"

"Yes they are. Actually many of my batchmates happen to date many of your batchmates, and hence the friendship. How come I never saw you around?"

"Okay, got it. And about me, I don't 'hang-around' much. Anyways, what were your scores?"

"Oh! Daddy's girl, eh? And my scores weren't up to the mark. I just scored a mere 87%. I was expecting more though."

"Come on, 87 is a good score. By the way what are you opting for now?"

"Same age-old Engineering. What about you?"

"Same age old Medicine," I sent with a laughing sticker.

"So you are the studious types, aren't you? Topper - that's what I'm going to call you from now."

I smiled at the word 'Topper'. It felt good being addressed as one.

"Sure. But I'm not the studious types, I'm most certainly the lazy types." True, if I had to have a type, it had to be the lazy, procrastinating type.

"Yeah, yeah you all say that. Stop being modest. Anyways, friends? Or are you going to sue me for my first text?"

"Haha. Friends. And I'll sue you the next time you confuse me with somebody else."

He sure seemed to be a potential friend. Friend. Did the term live up to its meaning? Well, we'll find out soon.

                         Author's Note

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