Part 1: First Ping
Background:
It was late September. The monsoon had just begun to fade in Delhi, leaving behind steamy evenings and the smell of wet concrete. Ankit, 29, was living a routine life — a mid-level marketing manager for a tech firm, independent, decently successful, and quietly bored. Nights were often filled with Netflix on mute, half-read books, and occasionally wandering into anonymous forums just to talk.
Medha, 23, had just started her MBA in Mumbai. Between orientation weeks, case studies, and new roommates, she felt surrounded yet strangely lonely. One evening, out of sheer boredom, she entered a lesser-known chatroom — one of those no-camera, no-profile, no-name places where usernames were the only identity. She typed her pseudonym: “SilverDust”.
And somewhere on the same server, “Monk29” had just logged in.
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29]
Monk29:
You sound like a poem waiting to be written. Hello, stranger.
SilverDust:
Wow. That’s… smooth for a first message. Not the usual “asl?”
Monk29:
ASL is dead. Thought I’d try charm instead.
So what should I call this poem?
SilverDust:
Call it… restless on a Tuesday night.
And you?
Monk29:
Call me a wandering mind. A monk in disguise.
Not holy. Just curious.
SilverDust:
Ha! That’s original. I like it.
So, what’s a curious monk doing in a place like this?
Monk29:
Escaping noise. And maybe looking for someone who types with honesty.
You?
SilverDust:
Same.
Noise in my head, and people who pretend too much outside of it.
I wanted quiet company.
Monk29:
Well, let’s be quietly honest then. No filters, no followers. Just lines and thoughts.
SilverDust:
Deal.
But let’s keep it anonymous. No real names. No pics. Not yet.
Monk29:
Agreed.
Just words, for now.
SilverDust:
So, tell me something… what does your normal day look like?
Monk29:
Wake. Coffee. Work. Pretend to care. Meetings.
Come home. Pretend to unwind.
And then… sometimes I log in here.
SilverDust:
That’s oddly poetic. Or maybe tragic.
I’m still in school… MBA grind just started.
But even the chaos feels like a loop already.
Monk29:
So we’re two strangers… stuck in different loops… meeting in the in-between?
SilverDust:
Exactly.
A monk and silver dust. Sounds like a short story title.
Monk29:
Or maybe the beginning of one.
SilverDust:
You log in here often?
Monk29:
Not really. Maybe I will now.
SilverDust:
Hmm.
Same time tomorrow?
Monk29:
I’ll be here.
SilverDust:
Good. Don’t flake. Monks shouldn’t lie.
Monk29:
And poems shouldn’t end too soon.
SilverDust:
Goodnight, Monk.
Monk29:
Goodnight, SilverDust.
Whispers in the Chatroom – Part 2: Echoes of Familiarity
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29 — Night Two]
SilverDust:
You actually showed up.
Monk29:
Of course. I had a feeling you might.
SilverDust:
Are you always this… committed to strangers?
Monk29:
Only the interesting ones.
So, SilverDust… what are we tonight? Restless again?
SilverDust:
Slightly less. I had good coffee and better memes today.
You?
Monk29:
Day was long. Deadlines, fake enthusiasm, corporate smiles.
I needed this. A chat without expectations.