A Cross-Border Story

Distance Is A Notion 

Give your Facebook a rest, and read this story when she was in grade six and he was in grade ten.

Back then, school kids weren't privileged with mobile phones, neither had a heavy wallet. Internet was a gourmet product those days; internet cafés were quite popular for every kind of computer tasks, from school projects to colour print outs. One evening, her friend asked if she knew about the then trending social media; she wasn't aware. Her friend took her to a café before the chemistry tuition and opened an account for her on ORKUT! That too with a new REDIFFMAIL email id!! The winter/Christmas theme was her all time favourite, and she loved the scrapbook application with those animated posts. 90s netizens will understand the fascination with Orkut: it has multiple chat room with unlimited access. She loved interacting with strangers, knowing what others are like, possibilities, theories. It happened when she had just been done with her grade seven final exams. Almost two months passed by, and she still couldn't decide if she should enter that particular chat room. What if she gets caught? What of that lands into legal troubles? What if she will be suspended from the school? One afternoon, she convinced herself that it was worth a try; after all, she believed in trying and regretting. Her mind had fixated on one idea of fact checking: if they too hated back.

She didn't know how to say hello to a random group of people who were infamous to be aggressive, could be abusive too. She didn't want to be kicked out of the chat room. 'Salam', she typed. Many greetings were received. Obviously, most of them began with ASL and she knew wisely to avoid those. One of them pinged, "hello". She sighed a breath of relief. They chatted for long. Almost every evening they chatted. By then the generous dad had got the dail up BSNL broadband at home. She

shouldn't suffer the waiting hours at internet cafés. In few days, hello had changed into namaste and salam walekum, and more giggles had filled their chats. They had added each other as friends on Orkut. Yet, she, may be he too, kept a safe and sound distance over the Internet, for you never know when these can be intercepted in what way. He was from Pakistan.

Time rolled by. Her questions were answered. Her doubters were addressed. He shared many fascinating stories of the people there. He would tell her how they loved her country as much, wayched Bollywood, how his country too had beating hearts for Shah Rukh Khan. They narrated their days, their plans, their dreams, their wishes. She was a school goer, he was a college goer, but both were teenagers. It was only a matter of time when they fell in love. They still believe it was a fateful love story. It was a catholic love: full of love, but absence of any rush of hormones to parts where one is aroused. Though they had people happeneing in their mundane world to them, they continued to be together. With itty-bitty fear, they shared numbers: telephone numbers. He wanted to hear the voice of the girl he loved so much, and had been chatting for good six months. She wasn't worried as much of receiving a call from Pakistan, as much she was of being caught by parents. Cleverly, she turned down the tone off and let him call. She answered the call as soon as it rang. He whispered "hello". Her heart was beating fast like a train gushing out fumes, but she was enjoying the calmness of his voice, like the passengers sitting in the train and enjoying the passing scenic beauty. He sounded ecstatically happy. His voice was brimming with smiles, which even the then BSNL service couldn't filter.

-Kaise hain aap?
-Hum acche hain. Aap kaise hain?
-Aaj hum bahut khush hain...ye din humein humesha yaad rahega. 
-Accha, suniye. Mere parents jag sakate hen. Aap iss number pe call na karen jab tak hum aap ko call na karen.
-Aap befikr rahen. Hum aap k call ka intezar karenge.
-Chalti hun. Bye. Take care.
-Take care. Allah hafeez. 
-Allah hafeez.

Eight years went by. No messages, no calls, no emails, no Orkut. Life had changed like nothing before. She had moved to a different city for higher studies. Facebook had taken over Orkut. Call it a barkat or past trying to go another adventure ride, she found him still there on Orkut. She pinged him in the afternoon; she had to wait till the same evening. There it was! The message from the man who loved her across the border. Happiness had a new definition. Two souls rejoiced the consecration of Internet. Not everything in the e-world was a lie. Their faith was reinstated in love, past religion, past time, past geography, past distance. They united over Facebook. As if nothing had changed! He was still madly in love with her. And she was proud showed off her love from Pakistan to the new people she met in the nene city. He was the only trying that lingered from the past that still made a home in her new present. From thousand miles away, he made her feel herself, the same younger self. He revived the love of two innocent teenagers. Though lot had changed, they had managed to remain the same to each other. A selfless love had managed to preserve everything. They rejoiced as if they were to hug in real.

It's true.  When it is real, time freezes. There have been many ups and downs but they have managed to stay in love; to them their today is just like their day one: a love that knows not how to bow down. Though both wished their team would win,  they enjoyed cricket between the countries like no other. Though Sania Mirza became the bride of Pakistan, though Shoaib Malik became the son in law of India, they steal glances on Skype, they fancy a life where their homelands won't stop two ordinary souls from embracing their love. Cricket has never been the same to them. Wars have saddened them together. With so much against and so much more different, they can't find a reason to make the magic disappear.

They are probably the blessed ones, for their love never turned down their friendship and their friendship never let their love be contaminated.