A V day story

Under normal circumstances, I wouldnt have been caught dead blogging a V-day story (which is why, just to save face, I am doing this a day after). But stranger things have been happening to me these past few weeks that make me wonder if.... Does love begin with a Chinese nose job? Or does being the world's most cantankerous millionaire also make women want to fall suicidally in love with you? I wouldnt have bothered to find out for I believe The Bard wasnt too far off the mark when he made the sanguine Prince of Denmark famously say, ``There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'' So it was when I found my cynical edge getting blunted when a friend told me about another friend whose friend (well, you get the picture) had just been through this extra-ordinarily ordinary love story.... It all began (where else?) in a chat room where A accidentally stumbled upon C (an aspiring documentary film-maker) who was pouring his heart out about how his (self-confessedly) brilliant film on teen pregnancies was languishing for want of takers. They got talking, day after day, for nearly a whole year, without either exchanging mobile numbers or photos. According to C, it was the singular most beautiful experience he had ever been through in his lonely 28-years and anonymity must have guaranteed a certain degree of intimacy. Very soon, he would spend the whole day in anticipation of the golden hour--5.30 p.m.--when A. would log in. During the year, they may have even passed by each other in the market/bus stand/theatre (in true Tamil film fashion) but they would never know. Then one day, they suddenly met. No lengthy preambles, no `shall I, shant I' fundas, just a simple `okay, lets meet.' Now, after it is all over, C. wishes he had never suggested that: at least the beautiful fiction would have been alive. Surprisingly for two people who had connected at the most psychic level online, the first meeting was a pathetic joke. They could never look at each other nor even know what to say to each other. So, an hour and three Cokes later, they decided to go back to where they were most comfortable with--the chat room--only to find that the magic was somehow missing. Three months later, A. married. Two weeks after, they got back online and suddenly everything was as before. Last heard, C. is deliriously blissful: he may have lost the reality stakes but his luminescent illusion is alive. When I heard this story first, I thought my friend was making it up. `Cyber adultery,' I remarked flippantly. But then one silent night, as I was driving back home, it occurred to me that I dont actually have to believe it. This story doesnt require a value addition in the form of third-party validation. I dont have to meet either A. or C. to know if the story is true. In the end, it is a damn good story and that is all there is to it: a tale of bonding that has earned its right to exist due to its own sweet implausibility.