Opinion How BBM alerted me to my mid-life crisis

One day,someone lamely suggested that I use the BBM for sending the number of texts I did because it was free. Even in the expressionist school of arrogance,“free” is a free flowing jingle. So I “learnt to do” BBM. Sindhi Crawford became my display name. Seeing my clumsy handling,two junior colleagues,treating me like a neurotic aunt,patiently taught me how to work it. Then one of them “added” me. Suddenly,cute little emoticons familiar from the sms site,bobbed up with a verve and nerve when paired with people’s display pictures,status messages and the paraphernalia that now makes our “personal” life. Two of my closest friends,noticing that I was warming up,insisted I get on to the big bad world of BBMing.

For the first few days,the idea of “free,immediate,chats” lured me. It was a private nano theatre. Background colours changed as more than one participant entered a conference,you could punch 10 messages in the time of one and spice it with sweet little symbols for emphasis. Talk to the Hand,Not Interested,Surprised,Huh,Whew,Dancing,Rolling On The Ground Laughing–these little yellow emoticons all available on the sms too are somehow an unavoidable part of BBMing. They brought a rush of adolescent excitement to my bored nerves. But something stronger had been stirred. A casualness in conversations,a lack of propriety,an overstepping of boundaries. Was I then finally losing my dumpy retentiveness? BBM became my surrogate Facebook. Changing my “status” every half an hour with updated pictures of life around me and putting it up became a compulsive obsession. Clothes,state of mind,diet,holidays,dreams,exercise routines and nightmares: I began hanging it all out and felt the lighter for it. I also put up pictures of the men I have had a crush on—stuff I had never done but suddenly want to do now. One day,while watching Raj Kapoor and Vyjanthimala’s film Sangam and Rajendra Kumar’s doomed love,I realised I was desperately in love with the thought of unfulfilled romanticism. “I love Jubilee Kumar” (Rajendra Kumar’s moniker then) went my status. The next instant everyone on my contacts list wanted to know: Who is Mr Jubilee? What does he look like?

Mr Jubilee Kumar looks like my dreams,I wanted to say. He makes me feel like a school girl. Without a moment’s thought,I now hug and mock people,tease friends,roll with laughter,dance,copy lyrics,use the F word freely,forward banal stuff including pictures of hot cricketers to girlfriends as I “do BBM”. Now I am “Kool”. I can openly declare my love for Jubilee Kumar without batting an eyelid. The BBM has also given me an alternative profession: Advice Monger-At-Large. I make a decent living out of writing but I still write like a maniac on BB before work,at work,post work.

I have never felt so emotionally busy in my life. Is it the BBM? Or is it the need to “Be,Be,Am”–at forty plus?