orkut

When I left college, I went through the motions of writing ‘stay in touch’, ‘don’t forget to invite me to your wedding’ and other cringe-worthy messages that I won’t mention here to the entire student body. I refused to sign in the ‘slam books’ of my best friends though. “What’s the point?” I argued “You guys are like a recurrent rash. You’ll never really be gone.” In the years since I have passed out of college, I am glad to say I am yet to be proven wrong. Today, my circle of friends consists of people who really mean something to me. Who I know I can turn to in times of need. Who will get me last-minute flight tickets and waive off five-digit excess baggage fees. So last week, when one such friend sent me an invite to join Orkut, the online community, I hesitated. If I was in touch with the people I liked, why would I want to actively seek out people I... well didn’t like? But my friend wheedled and pleaded. “It’ll be fun! Don’t you want to know what so-and-so is up to now? Aren’t you the least bit curious if x’s children have got her wonky nose?” Of course I was. My friend had found the right button to push. Secretly I was dying to know how the others were. Were they successful? Rich? Had childbirth packed on the pounds? Were they on Prozac? Did they still deserve to be called Miss Talented? In short, were they doing better than I was?

So I signed on. Within an hour I got two ‘scraps’. One from a girl who I had last seen at my wedding and another from a friend I chatted with every other day. Zero axe wielding psychopaths had contacted me. So far so good.