Chatting in Chennai

It was a meeting she had looked forward to and willed to happen for a few years now.

“I can’t come to Bangalore on Tuesday,” mom informed dad. “I have a very important meeting I can’t miss.”

“Why are you standing in front of the closet and staring at your clothes, mom?” asked the children last week.

“I have a very important meeting,” muttered mom, sorting through her clothes and disdainfully rejecting every single garment.

“What important meeting?” asked grandma, sensing the anticipation and trepidation in mom's voice over the phone. "Job interview aa?"

Job interviews are passé. Mom had a rendezvous with Rads!

E-mails were exchanged between Lakshmi, Rads and mom to meet at an outdoor coffee shop despite the heat, daughters in tow. As usual, Lakshmi was the first to arrive, and mom sauntered in fashionably late after changing her outfit at least three times and still unhappy with what she wore.

Rads tunneled thru' thereafter with warm hugs and infectious exuberance. Much like her online persona, she’s a bundle of energy - a complete contrast to mom’s bovine personality. One can easily imagine Rads as a dancemasterni, cracking her whip at truant teens and gently encouraging pudgy matrons to call upon some semblance of grace while shaking a leg.

Accompanying Rads was a demure cherub with a shy, ready smile, remnants of baby fat on her arms and thighs just begging to be squeezed. As their mothers rightly predicted, the two girls didn’t utter a word to each other the first hour. Missing from the group was Lakshmi’s daughter who was home with a stomach bug, and less than an hour after she arrived, Lakshmi was paged to return home and deal with a sick child.

As the weather cooled, the little girls warmed up, their bellies sated with French fries. Kicking off their shoes, they tore through the establishment, chatting with waiters and leaning over banisters, while Rads and mom sat under trees lit by fairy lights and talked about things-that-women-can-talk-about-for-over-two-hours-and-not-be-bored.

It was while the three women were chatting about blogging and the virtual audience that Lakshmi and Rads made a passing reference to dealing with unwanted attention online. “Wow, I thought only The Mad Momma had trolls,” blurted mom, as she listened in wide-eyed wonder to the two women recount their experiences in dealing with virtual venom.

This has left me shaken. Frankly, people, I can’t tell you how disturbed I am by this phenomenon. It saddens me to the point of shaking the very foundation of my self-esteem and confidence. Maybe I should take grandma’s advice and give blogging a break, while looking for a more fulfilling hobby, such as social work.

Four years of an online presence and what do I have to show? I am almost ashamed to admit it: not one nasty comment; not one testy troll.

Do you people have any idea how isolated I feel in social situations with fellow bloggers? Really, what does one have to do to get some attention around here?