Enter the ICQ No., the computer said. Sumit entered 126DFG45O. Then waited.

It was 8.30 pm. Indian Standard Time.

Everyday. This same time. For the last 3 years. From 22-25 years. From Clinical depression to hope. From a failure at his Chartered Accountancy to An Inter-pass. And a Final Group I pass. And now his fourth and last paper in his Final Group II. 4 daily exams. A test of his intelligence. And his mental strength. The earlier three days, he had talked to her. At 8.30 pm. IST. Then from 9 pm onwards, he would study. Till 3 am the next morning. He was energised by her. Divya. A paragon of sweetness. And innocence. And virtue. And hope. She fed him on a daily diet of hope. Every day. Every day for the last 3 years. The same line and length. The same disarming arguments. The same virginity of thought. Leading him from darkness to light. God, he used to live on Valium three years ago. Atleast thrice a day. Not ever since he ICQ'd her daily at 8.30 pm.

They had never exchanged photographs. No addresses. No descriptions. No perversions. No naughty bylines. No bitterness. No jealousy. She said she never talked to anyone, offline or online. He was the only person she had ever ICQ'd. He had plenty of reasons to believe her. It was a parasitic relationship. He lived for that ICQ No. 126DFG45O. That name Divya. He fantasised about her in his spare time. Beautiful, slender, with alabasterine features, and a purity of mind to match. Soft light. Candlelight dinners everynight in his dreams. Thye would waltz around the table. He would then kiss her on her forehead. He had resolved to kiss her on her lips after his Final papers results declared him a winner. In his fantasies. He didn't want to meet her. Ever.

Busy, would you like to try another ICQ no? He was shocked. At 8.30 pm? He tried again. Same answer. Something inside him cracked. For five minutes, he stared at the screen. Then, he became desperate. he had to talk to someone. Love turned to lust. He tried "20 somethings". A name came up. He was an animal. It was a she. He didn't care whether "she" was a drag-queen. He went on the kill. E-seduced her. After 20 minutes of perverted talk, he wondered. Similiar grammar. similiar syntax. Giveaway words. The girl on the other end was hooked. He planned it out. He said he wanted to delink. Could she leave her ICQ no? He was stunned at what turned up on the screen. 126DFG45O. No, he cried. Not her. Five minutes after delinking, he uplinked again. She was just waiting. He asked her name. Divya. Silence. Her chat box started filling up with below the belt language. Mindlessly, he played ball. His body parts were dying a slow death. No, not her. Something inside him went beserk for the nth time. Another hour of slime. Exhausted, he convinced himself that it wasnt her. No way. This shit wasn't her. he wanted to delink. Told her to meet at 8.30 pm tomorrow night. Can't, she said. I talk to a scumbag between 8.30 and 9 pm every night. Horrified silence. She went on and on. Told him about himself. he wondered if anyone could hate him in such an in-depth manner as Divya. After 15 minutes of detailed description, he was convinced that Divya hated every ounce of . Why do you then talk to this... turd? Kicks, she said. Kicks? Kicks? 3 years of kicks?.... What's the time by your watch? he asked her. 7.15 pm, she said. And by your computer? There was silence at her end. Two words of agony, she realised she had defaulted today. Her computer showed 10.30 pm. She had been fooled by her watch.

The next day, he was found sitting near his computer. When his father shook him, he crashed lifelessly onto the keyboard.