It had long been a game of mine to look myself up on Google. I prided myself on the fact that, despite having a fairly common name, most of the results on the first page referred to my own web presence; my social media pages, my tech-blog, references to my research publications and even a few news articles on the path breaking research I was an integral part of.
It was my last day at the US university I had attended for my post graduate and doctoral studies and I was returning to India as one of the youngest doctorate from this prestigious Alma Mater. With packing done and still about two hours to go for the pick-up, I decided to get back to my favourite game.
"One last time on the campus network," I mused, and switched on my laptop.
Suddenly, out of a whim, I decided to give myself a break and look up my friends from the undergrad days in India for a change. It was three and a half year since I had left India, and already many relationships had grown dim. There were friends I hadn't talked to in over a year; friends without whom even one day was unbearable at that god forsaken engineering college and hostel in the middle of nowhere.
I smiled at the promises we had made with dreamy eyes; Sumit, Akash, Neha and me, Deep. Friendship for ever, in touch over chat, mail and Facebook, get-together every year; it all had vaporised into thin air as days rolled by.
Akash was the only one I was faintly in touch with. He too had turned up in the US, albeit after a two year stint at a IT firm. "Saving up for my studies", he had said, when he had turned down my suggestion to apply for PhD in the US, and taken the humble job in stead.
It had pained me to think that the best brain in our college was going to be wasted, for people rarely had the will to return to studies once they started earning. But Akash had kept his promise and turned up at one of the top ranked Universities two years down the line.
We had met once soon after Akash came to the US, but even that was over a year ago. Emails and phone calls were few and far between. But still I had kept hearing about him once in a while. And this Google search strengthened my notion.
In the small span of less than two years, Akash was busy heading multiple projects and research aimed at making internet and telecom available and easy to use for all. He was clearly destined for great things and he had come a long way from his humble, single parent village upbringing. "If his work goes on in this fashion, he would soon be a household name across the world", I thought.
I was thrilled at Akash's success. Deciding to give him a call before I left US soil, I now turned to Sumit. Sumit the Rebel, Sumit the freak, Sumit the Superhuman.
It was a wonder how and why Sumit was in an Engineering college. All he cared about was his health, body building and sports. His dad was a wealthy businessman and kept his son 'well supplied'. Hence, he was our saviour whenever mess food became unpalatable; which happened pretty regularly, like any other hostel. He used to take us to the fruit juice stall outside the college and while we sipped the sweet juice, he himself chewed on the sugarcane directly. "Juice is for the sick and ailing, be a man", he used to scorn at us. We always ignored is remarks and preferred to concentrate on our glasses.
Sumit never had good grades. And neither did he care. Akash and sometimes I were there to ensure that he at least did not flunk and that was enough for him. He represented the college in six different sports and won laurels in all. That kept him happy enough.
It was Sumit who had introduced the group to Facebook. So I decided to look him up there first. At first, I found it hard to believe what I saw. The lean, mean fighting machine, that's how Sumit referred to himself, looked more like a rounded meatball. Only his bright eyes and ever present smile seemed to be the saving grace. He had failed to grab a job offer on campus, which hardly worried him, as he anyway would have gone on to join his father in their family business. We had rarely been in touch since.
As I scanned through Sumit's photos in disbelief at what less than half a decade of business life had done to him, a bigger shock awaited me. I found an album full of Sumit's engagement photographs. And the fiancee was non other than our very own Neha.
Neha, the anti-thesis of the modern urban Indian girl. The make-up less, uncombed hair, jeans kurti clad warrior for the basic rights of every human being. The girl who voiced her opinion on every matter of person, organization, state or nation. The girl who fought for every cause and never ever gave up. The girl who opted out of campus placements and chose to teach children in a village school. The girl who openly admired Akash for his struggle for excellence and secretly loved him for it.
Neha looked so out of sorts in those pictures; all decked up and laden with jewellery. And it turned out she had got herself a Facebook page as well. "Marriage change people", I thought, "So Facebook is no longer a silly 'bourgeois' luxury to you any more, is it?" Well, when your soon-to-be husband was an out-n-out capitalist, those sentiments no longer make sense I guess.
It is from her Facebook page that I got to know that she and Sumit were planning to settle down in Europe. Things like women's empowerment and education for all were surely things from a distant past for her now.
"So much has changed, we all have moved on so much in life. I wonder what they would have so say about me and my current life."
During our college days I had been the first one to profess a desire to escape from India; from its poverty, corruption and all other problems. And yet today, I was refusing major offers from US corporate houses and universities to return to my nation as a research scientist for a Govt. funded research centre. During our college days Neha had at some point of time kindled a spark within me with her speeches. That spark had caught fire during my stay in the US and today it was and all consuming fire burning within me. A desire to be a worthy son of my motherland filled my heart.
It pained me to think that as the fire kindled in my heart, it fizzled from that of Neha. And suddenly, I remembered Ananya. Strange are the tricks our minds play on us. I had no idea why I had thought of her apart from the fact that it was Neha who had introduced her, there was no other connection.
Coming to think of it, I realised that every detail of meeting Ananya was still vividly etched in my memory. Given that it was four years ago and that I had known her for a total of no more than 12 hrs, that was saying something.
We had met at our annual college fest. It was our final year at college and with the placement tensions over, we had all let our hairs down. Ananya was a guest at someone else's invitation, but found her friend more engrossed in her own boyfriend and somehow ended up striking a friendship with Neha. One thing led to another and she landed in our group for the day.
There was an instant chemistry between the two of us. We seemed to have so much in common. "Picture perfect masala bollywood movie", Neha teased us. We were enjoying each other's company so much, we simply laughed at the joke. We danced away the night. The rhythm and beat flooded our veins.
Sadly, all good things end. It was dawn and time for her to go. She had to take an early bus to be in time for her college. As we waited at the Bus stand, she kissed me goodbye. It seemed the most natural thing to do, and yet it was as surreal as it could be. The bus arrived soon and she departed. There were tears in our eyes and smiles on our lips.
I still felt like in a trance when the four of us had met up for breakfast. "So lover boy, did you take her contact?" Sumit asked me. My blank stare was answer enough. Even Neha knew little more than what the rest of us did. She had left me behind with a name, town and date of birth.
I really felt miserable for the first few days. I kept on wondering how she must have been waiting all the time for me ask for her number. But I was too lost to realise. There was no point crying over split milk; yet many a tear-drops were shed. However, the end of college was nearing and there were too many emotions flowing around the myriad meandering of life to stay pent up in one. With time she had been relegated to some dusty attic in my mind; seldom, if ever, visited.
What made me key in her name on Google today I will never know. But key in I did and the results were in front of me. The very first page was a matrimonial profile on one of the many such websites that had cropped all over the internet like mushrooms. I wistfully clicked on it. There were no pictures, but my eyes were fixed at the date of birth. My heart refused to believe that it was sheer coincidence.
Scanning the site, I saw that a phone number was listed. This time I could not delay. With trembling hands I picked up the phone, and dialed...
