Virtual Reality, An Android Fairy tale

I cannot bear it anymore, the brazen sunrays upon my naked eyes, I jump on the bed and knuckle my distracted dream to its abode before stepping on the floor, the clammy greasy floor. I am afraid to face it again, a day to bear for at least 16 hours before I can sleep again to oblivion, a forced pill-induced sleep. Living a day without any motivation, any soothing optimism is like carrying its burden on the head. It is hard to make it every day.

Layering a thrifty amount of paste on the rough bristled brush I look at the screen of my phone. The smartphone of a fake smart girl. Though it's a refurbished one but serves better than me. The gleaming face projected on its screen is a super fantasy. It is me or may not be me.

Its slim, fair, and the edited facade is perfectly visaged in accord. Its hair is splendid like a fountain bathing in the morning sun and dark brown messaging colour, and the pink wet plum lips are far from the dull cracked colourless that I pose. They think it's me. I know in my heart this is just the virtual reality where I live and die like a coward escaping the front. They talk to me that Rohon, Sidharth, and Mainak … take me as that girl on that screen as if stepping out of the Star Magazine.

But how to face them? How long do I hide here in this hole with my callous life and sallow existence fighting for both ends and meets? Siddharth called me the previous night and the night before previous and before it. He wanted to meet me and all the others. But I ignore them, keeping all of them on the brink with excuses and pretension. I cannot lose them. They call me beauty, call me their heart. They care for me they want me. But if they found me, who I will be? Their adoration and appraisal will halt with a screech of brutal condemnation. Can I bear that then? Oh no, I don't want to bear it at all, and I don't want to come into the limelight. But for how long? If they go away from me, what should I do? Nothing to worry I can form a new pic in Picasso and draw new attention. But for Siddharth, the case is different and difficult. I don't want to lose him. I feel...I feel I love him. I don't know who he is or how he looks as there only show a recent movie hero on his profile. But he talks nice, behaves nicely and makes me feel nice. I want to meet him, and I want to tell him how I feel. But if he gets shocked and loath me. If his hymn on praise changes into savage sarcasm, can I bear it? He wants to meet me, but I am afraid to meet him and at the same time to lose him. 

The sun is hot today as I stepped out. Today I have to meet a family who needs a maid to take care of their ageing mother. I got the call at nit from our centre and my home, it will be near, and I can afford the time. So the centre chose me to go for the interview. Yes, there is also tough competition like the corporate world, competition of maids and servants to get a highly paid job at a good household where the workload is low, and the environment is good. But luck does not always favour and the opposite happens. I walk briskly to reach in time and try my luck. The queue will be long they warned me, as they post no disparity on gender, both male and female candidates are welcome according to their charge and behavior and time management. I tuck the errant locks at the coil of my braid and press the bell. It is not that I'm nervous. I'm efficient enough but I'm not sure about the job that I need so badly. The door opens leading me to a faintly illuminated corridor far ahead of a simulated environment. When my eyes get set I look at them. They are 14 or 15 in total, including all ages and all genders. Finding a seat near a guy I collapse immediately. The anxiety, and the fretted furrow mark every face with sweat and need. I squint at the guy beside me busy on his phone. Typing something. Fool! he may be new in this case. It will mark a bad impression if the appointee finds this flicking habit. I should switch off my cell immediately. As I frisk on my bag the phone vibrates letting some messages enter immediately. They get the chance. Failing to suppress my curiosity I open them. They are from Siddharth, with all the words of love, care and affection. I look at my screen which is still vibrating, and I look at the thin pale but beautifully mundane guy sitting next to me and typing vigorously to someone whom he cannot recognize sitting next to him.