❄️ Tanu

I. A Name That Stopped Me

It was a cold December night. The world slept, except for a handful of souls glued to their screens. I was deep in a chatting spree, bouncing between facades and aliases. That’s when I saw her name.

Tanu. Simple. Soft. Authentic. I pinged her.

“Hi.”
No reply.

“Hi.”
She responded.
“I want to make friendship with you.”
“Sure,” she replied.

And just like that, a connection sparked.

II. The Beginning of Something

She said her name was Tanu. I asked her age. It seemed perfect. Or maybe she was playing me. In chat rooms, you could be anyone. I knew that well—I’d been a 20-year-old girl, a 35-year-old American, a doctor, even a church priest.

I first saw a computer in college. I’d grown up in a village where technology hadn’t yet arrived. My friend Rahul introduced me to chatting.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

I did. And I never stopped.

Months passed. My bond with Tanu grew. We chatted late into the night, sometimes from internet cafés that stayed open just for people like me. After college, I moved to Bombay. With broadband at home, I could talk to her for hours.

She became my constant. We spoke about everything—books, news, dreams, fears. She knew the corners of my mind. I believed I knew hers too. Across miles, something tender began to bloom.

III. The Question I Never Asked

I returned home for my sister’s wedding. The house was alive—shopping, relatives, laughter, gossip. One afternoon, over lunch, my mother looked at me and asked:

“Once your sister is married, I want you to get married.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Do you have someone in mind?”

How could I tell her about Tanu? I hadn’t even asked Tanu how she felt. I should have. She looked beautiful in the photo she sent. I would ask her.

“No one,” I lied.

That night, I sat at my computer with a racing heart.

“Da, I want to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“I want you. Will you marry me?”
“Sorry yaar. I’m not the marrying type. I plan to remain single.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I just asked.”

We continued chatting as if nothing had changed. But something had.

IV. The Life That Moved On

Years passed. I was back at the same dining table. My mother, persistent as ever, looked at me with quiet urgency.

“You have to marry. It’s getting late.”
“I’m still not ready.”
“You have to,” she said.

I saw the desperation in her eyes. I gave in. I got married.

V. The Last Chat

One night, I felt the old pull. I hadn’t spoken to Tanu in a while. Life had changed. I was devoted to my wife, to my new world. But something about Tanu lingered.

I tiptoed to my computer, kissed the air toward my sleeping wife, and logged in.

Tanu was online. We chatted like old times. Familiar. Easy. Then came the question I never expected.

“Will you marry me?”

My fingers froze. I stared at the screen. The words blurred. I took a deep breath, shut down the computer, and returned to bed.

VI. The Memory I Kept

Tanu had been my friend. My first crush. My first love. I would have loved to marry her. But I was married now. I had responsibilities.

I decided never to chat with her again. I wouldn’t tell her I was married. I wouldn’t risk losing her.

Let her remain a sweet memory. A frozen moment.

A friend called Tanu.