Virtual Reality

Like how sweetness cannot be defined, but ought be savoured .. so is the addiction to the virtual world. At times I am hesitant to admit that I am addicted, otherwise rash enough to claim that I am de-addicted. 

When I am accused at home of being careless and lost in dreamy world, I revert back with my dozen logic and knee long arguments, that I proclaim myself as the hardworking and pious researcher, who without fail attends to all the chores required of a wife, a mother and a home maker, yet sits longs hours of the night so committed to her work and the pleasure which comes out of it. To bring more authenticity to my honesty, I also most carelessly admit that I do entertain myself in the virtual world and that it is fun to play games in chat rooms (and bully others too!). 

For this oration  of mine, what I get in return from my ‘good’ half (cant say ‘better’ for fear of breaking rules of Wren and Martin) is a meaningful nod or a hum (“no point telling this lady.. better keep quiet” .. I hear from his eyes).The other day when my mother rang up, he advised her to take an internet connection so that she could contact me. 

During my phases of acute addiction, I search for the beyluxe emoticons (the smileys), when I hear a joke I look out for the limbs beating laughter , or when I am annoyed for the muttering browny and find myself at a loss of words to express myself effectively without these. 

Worse is when I become very absent minded and end up a sorry figure, the crazy lost soul. The other day when we returned from an evening out, and when my Boss pulled himself, our son and the shopping out of the car, I remained inside blissful and lost, dreamy eyes and smile twisting my lips at its ends. When I was shaken, I gave the most sober of my stupid expressions and doggedly followed them home. 

Few months back at the Panchayat election poll, taking my six year old along with me as I entered the polling room, I was asked to stand for the identity verification snap on the marked paper on the floor. Most obligedly I made my son stand there and asked him to look straight. The officers were zapped seeing an insane woman, probably illiterate, they calmly advised me that the snap is required of me, the voter. Turning back sheepishly to look at my mentor hoping he hadn’t got another proof of my presence of mind,I saw on his face the head hitting smiley, violently bashing his pony tailed head on the pole;)