An Orkut Love Story: Chapter 29

Today is Day 29: This post, part of the novella 'An Orkut Love Story' is written as part of the prompt Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014


I just discovered how blessed I am to have a criminal streak. Perhaps, I should join the underworld in Mumbai since I’ve been spending sleepless nights conspiring to kill Tarun. Khallas! Alcohol is doing the trick in my obsession to plot my love rival’s death. What if I give Supari (contract) to someone to gun him down or mow him, disguised in a road rage? Right now, I am seriously considering to start a network of small time goons, gangster and the underworld. Ahem! Ahem! Chota Shakeel and Dawood (Under world King Pins) are rotting in jail. Woe betide me! I could have kidnapped Tarun so that I elope with Swagata. Shit man! Whatta weird thoughts crossing my mind! Blame it on alcohol.


I logged on Orkut out of sheer boredom, only to realize I de-activated my account ages ago. I re-activate, going through my old profile pics and checking my scraps which is now vintage stuffs. The last scrap showing was sent by Swagata, ages ago. It tempted me to check her profile only to see her in solo. It seems she deleted her engagement pictures with Tarun for more privacy. Or, perhaps, I am the reason. May be, she finds me repulsive. Okay! Let bygones be bygones. After all, I have a life on Facebook.

I receive an e-mail from Google: After ten years of sparking conversations and forging connections, we have decided it's time for us to start saying goodbye to Orkut. We will shut down Orkut on September 30, 2014. You can export your profile data, community posts and photos usingGoogle Takeout (available until September 2016). We are preserving an archive of all public communities, which will be available online starting September 30, 2014.

I can’t help but feel a moment of sadness. After all, Orkut was the place I found love and met Swagata where we flirted shamelessly, baby-ing each other, exchanging, silly lovey-dovey notes and making dirty jokes. We were all over the place that once Kushal scrapped us with, ‘Get a room, guys.’ I log off. No point in delving over things that was never meant to be.

I dunno why I am hitting a high emotional chord today and constantly logging on long forgotten sites to relive painful memories. The fingers are behaving topsy-turvy today, hits the button of Yahoo! Mail! I stumble upon a couple of e-mails bearing the id of a certain Vijay Singhania. “Hi Karan, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since a long time. I am Vijay, Swagata’s uncle.  I want to meet you and perhaps you may not be aware that Swagata has shifted back to Mumbai. Hope you will reply to my mail. You can call me on 989016xxxx.”

I thought of deleting the e-mail but, on second thought, I replied. “Thanks Vijay Uncle. I have moved on ...” We exchanged few e-mails and it seems like Vijay uncle is as stubborn as her niece, hell-bent to coax me into giving my phone number.

In the flick of second, another e-mail flashes, “Dude! We must meet this week in Mumbai over beer. I know for sure that you still love Swagata and before you chuck me out, let me tell you that my niece is my life. I can’t bear to see her unhappy. How can both of you live such a sad existence? C’mon! Guys, face it. 

Swagata told me everything about you. I’ve held her in my arms when my sister and brother brought her from the hospital for the first time. One thing I know for sure: It’s in her genes to keep things for herself, taking a long time to pay heed to her inner feelings. But, she has a heart capable of loving selflessly. You know a bit, like me. After all, it runs in the family. You know, we are so bad at expressing love coz it hurts our ego.”

Finally, I relented. Vijay uncle calls, “Dude! Ready to bond over beer at Leopold on Saturday at 2 p.m. We can sit together to admire the chicks in Mini-skirts.” I chortle, “Cool, Uncle.”

“No ‘uncle me’, buddy. I hate formalities. See you at 2 and chill. I am not planning to murder you.”

I smile. Vijay uncle is quite energetic on phone and his voice is full of enthusiasm. I am apprehensive, though. After all, I am meeting the uncle of Swagata and hope he is not some boring old man who wants to settle scores with me. Get ready boy for some drama, may be, pound of fist landing on my face. I just hope he is not related to Muhammad Ali.
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