Why I couldn’t leave Facebook

Posted: February 4, 2012 in Uncategorized

Remember this self-righteous little post I made about leaving Facebook and its trivialities behind in a huff to do bigger and better things with my time? Well I meant every word of it OK. At the time. But after my vacation in Sri Lanka last December – during which I returned to FB shortly to easily get in touch with the peeps on the island – I thought I’d leave again when I flew back to Delhi, to – ya know – focus on my studies and be dorky like that.

But then Winter happened. When I landed here it was close to 10 degrees. I was in five layers of clothing inside my apartment, and still my knees trembled. Times like these I envied the obese for their natural insulation. I was literally miserable. And honestly speaking, though I’ve made some friends here, I haven’t really bonded with anyone to the extent as I have with my friends back home, which didn’t really help matters.

One day, I was going to take a bath, so I have to fill this bucket up with hot water from the tap (tres-archaic, I know). So I did this and meanwhile soaped and shampooed myself up — then grabbed a bowlful of water and — AAARGH — the water was ice cold; the gas used to heat the water was apparently all gone so the heater obviously wasn’t working. Had to still take a bath in cold water in some 15 degree weather to get rid of all the soap.

Some days I would wake up at 8.30AM for college, but it was torture to climb out of the nice, warm quilt into the cold air around it, let alone the general problem of my innate hatred for mornings. When I finally dragged myself out of bed and got out of the apartment, and rushed to class two minutes away, the cold air would sneak its way up my nose into my lungs and make my head and breathing feel weird, till I’d have to stop and breathe into my palms to feel normal again. I sat on my hands a lot in class, a trick my mum taught me when I was in a room that was too cold to keep your fingers from dying, made it a bit hard to take down notes though.

There were a few cool things about Winter however, like being able to wear some mad stylish winter jackets you can never wear on a tropical island, and breathing into the air to see a hazy white ghost escape from my mouth, and the taxi-ride to the train station at 6AM when the streets and everything were hidden behind thick milky mist and you literally couldn’t see beyond 5 feet in front of the car, and the feeling of having a steaming hot plate of Maggi noodles on a frigid afternoon. But mostly it was just crappy. There’s just something sinister about the sun refusing to show; maybe it’s just my islander tendencies talking, but it’s like the energy, the colour, the.. yay-ness.. out of everything has been ironed out. The cold just creeps up into your world, wraps one icy arm around you and paints everything grey with the other. It made me cranky too. Several times did I vent my frustrations on poor Monkey – my monkey-on-a-tricycle – by calling him all sorts of hurtful names making him silently cry on the inside (which in the eyes of the roomies was no improvement from my having ordinary conversations with him).

What does all this have to do with Facebook? Well, it was my happy place. When Monkey wouldn’t listen, when I sat on my hands too long and couldn’t feel them properly anymore, when I ran to college at 9AM with only two layers on and freezing half to death only to find the class had been cancelled, when I accidentally spilled half my delicious hot Maggi noodles on the floor, when some days were so cold and dreary that I literally wouldn’t emerge from the covers for more than 15 hours, when everyone got on my nerves without making much effort — I logged onto FB to spend some virtual time for some virtual comfort from the friends and family back home. Sharing pictures and notes with each other from miles away, all the lols and the lmaos, the random wallposts about fat cats in paintings and all – really helped.

Sounds cheesy I know, but it’s true, what can I do.
And in no way am I using this as an excuse to cover up for something else, like say, an unnatural procrastination-induced addiction to social networking.
Of course not, that would be ludicrous. Ludicrous, I say.

Now I will distract you with a portrait of Monkey.


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