Ecstasy and agony of a young girl
Posted October 18, 2015on:
An advantage of the old age is that young girls start trusting you. Facebook gives the additional advantage of introducing an element of anonymity, making it easier for them to discuss even their personal affairs without much inhibition, which they would not be able to do if they have to talk to someone face to face in our conservative society.
I don’t exactly remember how Anuradha and I started chat on Facebook but soon we became what can be called ‘close friends’, talking about our personal and family matters. Anuradha, incidentally, was not her real name. She was in her early twenties’, born and brought up in a South Indian orthodox Brahman family, had done her MA, was not doing any job but was waiting for her marriage. Her parents, she told me, were looking for a suitable boy for her.
On her Timeline, she had posted several photographs – of her alone and with other girls. She was a plain looking girl and always, always dressed very conservatively even though some other girls in the photographs looked modish.
Our chat was not regular. Once in a while she would tell me about some function she had attended with her family or about some picnic she had gone to with other girls of the village. She was quite excited while talking about her marriage and narrate in detail what she had overheard her parents discuss about the latest boy they had seen. The search for the suitable boy went on for quite some time.
Then her parents settled on a boy and Anuradha chatted about nothing but the boy, his occupation, his family, his village and so on. One day she told me that her parents had invited the boy and her family members so that the boy could see Anuradha. She appeared that day bubbling with joy.
After that I did not hear from her for several days.
One afternoon as I logged into my Facebook account (she knew I was available on Facebook mostly in the afternoons), there was a cryptic message from her: ‘Do I look sexy?’ I read and re-read the message trying to make a sense of it. By then there was another message: ‘Don’t I look sexy?’ Now I was completely flummoxed. Before I could gather my wits, there was yet another message: ‘They say I am not glamorous’.
Now some understanding of the situation had dawned on me. I sent her the message: ‘Who says’. There was, however, no reply. I sent another message, then another and continued to send messages during the next several days but there was never a reply. After some time I noticed to my consternation that her Facebook account had disappeared.