She was not in my friend list but used to visit my Facebook profile every once in a while. I presumed her as one my follower as there were many. She used to follow my posts,Always had her share of crispy comments on my profile pictures. I noticed she did not have photograph on her profile. There was plenty space available for doubt that this could be fake profile created by man pretending to be woman and therefore I never really concerned about her opinions or comments. Days went ahead and she become known follower to me. One day I got notification about her comment on my post. Queer curiosity about her provoked me to visit her Facebook profile. It was indeed clean profile. Her whole Facebook wall was flooded by quotes, songs, Urdu shayari, ghazals, bell letters, Hindi movie lyrics, recipes and what not! I become confident that this must be a girl. No guy could waste his time by creating fake profile and writing down such a useless stuff (of course useless for so called serial chasers on Facebook) instead of hunting down girls and harassing them.
Boys or an adults whose brains still carry the age and understanding of a naive child may create fake profiles on Facebook for different but essential reasons. To start with- slandering about anything or everything in world, to piffle about politics where no word could be understood except the slanders in most cases as written previously, to settle personal score/ personal agenda. These people have been doing their duty with much loyalty under impression of contributing in the intellectual development of their country. No words but I can offer my two minutes silence and deep condolence for them. Back to the flow I confirmed that this profile may not have an authentic profile picture but this must be a girl. I decided to give it a shot and sent her personal message. I wrote-
“Hi, writing you out of a sheer curiosity, you are not in my friend list but you are following me. You always like my posts and my pictures. First I thought you are a fake profile user so I neglected, just today landed on your timeline and saw your posts. Why you kept a picture of ugly monkey infant as your profile picture? That’s why I had an impression that you are not real. Are you a girl? Do you like writing? If it is so continue to write and oh if I hurt your feelings I am sorry. Take care.”
Frankly I left message and I forgot. On another day saw her reply in my inbox. She wrote a detailed answer to my short questionnaire.
“ Hi Anjali. Please do not worry. Many people thinks that I am a fake profile but trust me I am not. Yes I am a woman. I follow you simply because I love your thoughts. If you are talking about the profile picture of an infant monkey I believe it’s my mirror. I am exactly like him. Although we are not in each other’s friend list I wish to show you my real photograph. Please, please keep it between two of us.”
She never shown her picture to anyone till that moment on Facebook. I don’t know why she trusted me a lot. She was middle aged, housewife. Dark complexion, ordinary looks, pleasant personality. Her calm and matured face was depicting the story of her untold struggle. The most appealing thing was her eyes. They were reflective. The depth of her eyes was expressing her inner nature. I mentioned this thing to her. Obviously she was happy to hear that. For a moment I recollected the face of an actor late Rajesh Khanna from a memorable Hindi movie “Anand”. I did not realize why I am comparing her face to the character of Anand thus by quickly whisking off my thoughts we continued our virtual tittle-tattle.
She was a sweet woman. Although she was not learned Ph.D. holder from Facebook university to dump proficiently about progressive or regressive politics on Facebook or for that matter to run agenda for/ against Modi, Thackeray family, Pawar family or Gandhi family on daily basis, her world was small and harmonious. She used to tell small things from her own life, tales from her late mother and grandmother. I used to get beautiful songs, poems, recipes, shayari and enormous other topics shared by her in my news feed. While reading her posts and talking to her I always had a feeling that she was concealing something from the world. There was a certain agony hidden in her every expression she used to write but I never succeed to find out what was that troubling her so much.
Days passed by. One day she changed her profile picture. This time it was a beautiful innocent human baby lightly smiling in her sleep. After that she never changed her profile picture. We shared our numbers. Continued to talk on Whats app. I did not remember how and when I began to lose contact with her. Chatting become occasional, communication graph dropped off, I got busy with new friends and newer challenges of life and somehow left her behind. Once I tried to send her message two years before but message did not deliver to her Whats app number. I thought she must have changed her number so decided to get back her on Facebook messenger but again I forgot the same.
Nearly four years departed when we talked for the first time. One day I decided to clean my friend list. Those lazy Anaconda’s who were blocking space in my list without doing anything, I decided to wipe them out. As I was scrolling down the list suddenly saw her profile and for a second all those memories lit a long flashback in mind. I blamed myself that how many days and months passed by and I completely forgot about her. Wondering what she is doing now I visited her profile. It was surely first time in last two three years. As soon as I landed on her timeline I saw a heading named as “REMEMBERING” above the head of her profile name. It was unusual for me. Her last post was written in August 2015. It was a line from a famous Marathi song sung by Asha Bhosale. “Ekach ya janmi janu firuni navi janmen me” (In my present lifetime I will born and reborn again to live the life fullest ). There were condolence messages written by people under the post. It was a big shock for me to read that obituary and swallow the fact that she is no more in this world. In fact she left world three years before! Why I was so careless? Why I did not message her for a single time in these three years? What she must had done in these years? How much she would have been suffered? I was not there to support her in her last days. My mind sunk into an instant abysmal of grief. I saw one of my common friend who liked that obituary post. I took the screenshot and pinged him. I said to him, “Dada, just today I came to know she is no more. We become friends just an year before she passed away. She also sent her real photograph to me. How this has happened?”
Within a few minutes I got a reply from him
“She had a cancer. She was longing for a baby but unfortunately her wish could not be completed due to the disease she was fighting. She was not in my friend list though but she used to visit my timeline to read my posts. Yes indeed she was good friend of mine too. She passed away two days before the day I decided to visit her . No one informed me about her death so I couldn’t even able to pay her last homage.”
After reading his message with heavy mind suddenly I found all those missing links from past. I realized why there was a profile picture of little baby she never changed. That untold agony from her write ups was an attribution to her unborn baby she always wanted to have. I realized why I recalled Rajesh Khanna from Anand while I was talking with her first time. Yes, like Anand she too was struggling with cancer but never uttered a word about her pain. She chose to give happiness and beauty through her expressions despite off acute infliction she was fighting inside.
People may mark some impact and empty space when they exit from life. There must be an ample vacancies everyone create after losing connections with person and forgot about them but once you realize that how smallest that emptiness may look at the earlier you may never find any replacement to fill up the scratch and recreate the intact form of mirror as it is. No you can’t.
That night I just pushed off all the work before me, shut down my laptop, put off the lights and sat down in the chair near the window of my small room. That same night I listened the song on repeat mode in an empty darkness which was the last status of my late sweet buddy. When the sound of music was trickling in whole room I saw the mixture of moonlight and streetlights reflecting on window made its way to alight my room. It was her indeed. It’s Roshni!