The month of July, they always rain, making the already green valley, vie with the forests that encircled her periphery. The fat Brahmaputra cruised along like a pregnant lady, loathe to carry her burden wanting to unburden and croon for a while. The red tiles of the roof they gave birth in every ten seconds she counted, every time almost the same proportion of glitter formed itself into the perfect drop that landed on her outstretched hands. She had placed a bucket just below her window; she liked the sound of clashing egos as the water dropped from its great heights to the waiting stretch of iron. The bucket was half full and made noises no more, perhaps I should throw the water and let it sing once more, she smiled.
The sudden sound of her computer, broke her idle gaze and she glided into the space she called her own, Moi et la mine. With slender fingers gone pudgy with time, she felt the letters on the board; she lingered for a minute at the chipped nail paint on them, the stains of yellow on the sides of the once fashionable peach. Almost immediately the eye ran to the other hand, better she thought but a far cry from what they should be. Oh well some other time, she mused. A purple icon stared at her, a big smile on it with a funny looking Y rather intricately done on the logo. She wondered who had done it and how much time it had taken to get it right, she should Google Yahoo, she thought and laughed at her own joke, not too amusing silly, let’s get going.
What does one do on an idyllic romantic morning, with the delicate sounds invading her lazy horizons? Read would she, brush strokes of resonance maybe, why not try chatting, she reasoned. Not a bad ideas for lazy lamhes she thought but a friend list full of beard sprouting intellect who sweet talked of philosophy, didn’t exactly sound like the ideal morning cuppa. Why can’t I have my share of fun and disappear from the scene, said the horns on her head. Her mouse clicked on the Yahoo icon and it beamed silly at her, she scowled back, nothing seemed to be worth smiling or even laughing, what was that silly icon smiling all the time for. Let’s try something different she thought. Discarding her usual id she opted for a new one, what a long process, she grumbled, why all the fuss she wondered. Yahoo asked politely, ‘user name please’. She felt like those fancy dress parties in school, what could she be this afternoon, well she felt lazy and sexy and laid back, something small and sweet? But that doesn’t really sweet suit you hon, not exactly tall but height matters need not be reflected in an ID too huh? Something more passionate maybe, history, what say girl, an exotic female species you would love to be. “Mmm come to think of it, why not Cleopatra, a bath in ass’s milk she rather fancied, the lady it is. ‘Cleo’, she typed and ‘pat’ came the options, ‘Cleoppatra123’, ‘Cleopatra xyz’, ‘Cleopatra_beautiful’, she wondered if Cleopatra would have understood what underscore meant and why on earth would Cleopatra be 123 or xyz. Well she would be Cleopatra76 she decided, it was comforting to know that something of her would always be attached to Cleopatra from now on, her year of birth, viola!
Adequately proud of herself, she launched herself onto a chat room, where would it be, somewhere not close, was the immediate thought, she didn’t want peep ons. The 30’s chat room stuck out like a sore thumb, oh well the thirties it is, she nodded. Formalities over, Lakshmi, the ‘God of good things’ as she described herself, sat pretty and looked outside, the chat room was the only place where one could take advantage of female foeticide and have a feeling of being mistress of all she surveyed.
It was till raining, though it had subsided, she wondered if she could go out for a walk in a while, maybe she could. Nothing was happening, why weren’t people pinging her, with an id like hers she should go “It's raining men ..Hallejulah ..It's raining men”, she whistled. Scrolling the curser a lazy up and down, she shifted her wild mop from one shoulder to another in effortless lazy ease. A stray strand lingered on during the transfer; she admired it on the adjoining mirror, in crimson pink and soft skin she looked good she summarized enough to eat? Twirling a laugh, she heard a ping, at last and about time she thought.
A ‘Rajeshforsexyladies’ had pinged, she made a face, LS, she pronounced, what a name!
Conceding an aristocratic ‘Hi’, she asked ASL?
Rajeshforsexyladies : First tell me you male/female?
Cleopatra76: You Male /Female, what sort of English is that…oh well. How can someone with a name like Cleopatra, be anything but female, are you out of your senses?
Rajeshforsexyladies: Oh ok he scrambled in collected hurry..ok we can chat.
Cleopatra76: What do you mean we can chat, have you even asked me whether we can chat?
Rajeshforsexyladies: ok can we chat?
Cleopatra76: Yes why not, that’s why we are here in the first place I guess. (Silly man she thinks)What’s your ASL?
I’m 25 he answered. What an uncouth age to be she thought, terribly confused and neither here nor there, dialogue box closed, she was over with him.
Rajeshforsexyladies : Hello what happened, can I know your ASL too?
Cleopatra76: It should be ‘May I know, your ASL please?” She typed. “No you may not”, she replied.
Rajeshforsexyladies : But why, you said we could chat.
She hit the ignore button and waited, someone else would ping she was sure, she never pinged herself, something about dignity of the ‘God of dignified things..’
It’s Mr ‘Hold me if you can’ this time, she had heard of the adage catch me if you can but, the ‘Hold me’ seemed slightly out of place, to her nose in the air’ sensibilities. Let’s check him out, she decided. Without wasting much time on introducing himself he got straight to the point of, do you like sex? Though not exactly the first time, that she was accosted by such messages online yet some embarrassment was in order. Flushing and mumbles all in place, her cat like curiosity refused to give in to the atrocities of such messages and messengers, what should she do, she frowned? Using the Ignore button would be the easiest thing she pondered, much in the cold blooded killer fashionista saying ‘ I like to see them die’, she decided on testing some waters.
Keeping up the conversation she tried out again, what’s your ASL?
Hold me if you can: I am 30/M/Hyderabad, what about you?
Cleopatra76: What do u do?
Hold me if you can: I am a Software Engineer
Cleopatra76: What! Oh no not again..What did the world do before U guys decided to descend on us.
She looks out of the window; she cannot see beyond a point, or so she thinks. The rain was the culprit, thick and heavy and this time it was not the youthful pitter patter, but like a burden placed between her silver linings, her legs heavily placed on the ground for stability more than poise. Arched eyebrows scrutinize the little bits of food stuck within her keyboard, a bit of pan masala, a long lost Jintan ball rolling between the R and S and hitting a low in the M. Devilish boredom takes over.
Hold me if you can: What did you say?
Cleopatra76: Nothing..anyway what shall we talk about?
Hold me if you can: How about sex, by the way, what’s yr name..I am Ashish.
Cleopatra76: Hi Ashish..Cleo will do for now.
Hold me if you can: Oh ok. What do u do?
Cleopatra76: I am a carpenter
Hold me if you can: A carpenter! But how..I mean you are a woman right?
Cleopatra76: Of course, what’s that got to do with being a woman?
Hold me if you can: Well nothing, but I’ve never heard of a female carpenter, and what are you doing online?
Cleopatra76: Well Ashish, carpenter’s can be online right? Besides, there’s always a first time for most things in life.
The smile was turning into giggles fast, the idea of having a bakra on hand was fun she decided and chuckled.
Hold me if you can: well what kind of work do you do as a carpenter..truly I have never met a carpenter on the net. I am a bit surprised.
Cleopatra76: What is there to be surprised, I work with a team of carpenters and I am the head mistri!
Hold me if you can: uh..ok nice; to know that.
Surprise element over, ‘Lady of good things’ is bored again; laughs over, no lingering interest remains. The fact that the man does make the effort to question her or get through her humor! Time for IGNORE BUTTON, yet again she thinks, tired she looks out. In lazy cat like fashion she stretches out for her paint brush, red…she wonders, grey perhaps with a dash of blue, eyes take in the beauty of the reigning grey pouring into her backyard. Pitter patter topsy turvy world for this ‘God of messy things’ she signed off.
© 2010 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
