My Mother Is On Facebook.

Silence. The deafening variety.

She's on Facebook, she's on my list on friends, she's everywhere!

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my mother to bits and would live my life for her. I have this theory that living your life for someone/something must be infinitely tougher than giving it up for that particular whoever/whatever, but that's for another time, another post.

And she didn't track me down, sneak up on me, put on a "yo, imma hot dude, add me yu sexii chica!" disguise (that would never -wont ever- work, don't get funny ideas anyone...) and then do an India TV "parda faash!" gig at dinner one night. Au contraire, I'm the one who got her off VSNL and introduced her to Gmail and Facebook and my humble blog - I'm your modern-day saintly proponent of clicks and codes. I'm glad she's open minded and eager to learn the ropes on here, to see how these work best for her. I'm glad that it has given her an opportunity to reconnect with classmates, neighbours and friends from the years past. I'm glad she's being progressive about it and not giving me some "too old, too busy, and who cares anyway" concoction. 

I'm glad, glad, GLAD. Proud. I truly am. Come to think of it, I probably sound like a proud mum. Anyway, I think she's wayy cool.

But okay, picture this. Fictional situations all (so Ma, don't freak out.. nevertheless, CPR on hold guys!). Only for the sake of point making, ye get? So, for whatever reason, you upload on Facebook some pics of you and a bunch of friends downing criss-cross drinks or trying out some random grassy thing or in general playing the stupid/dangerous/perverted fool. Surprise surprise, your mom gains access to them! Oh and in case it hasn't crossed your mind yet, you're underage. HOW WILL YOU FEEL? I dunno know how you'll feel but boss, those pics will self destruct. Poof! And if that doesn't happen in time, haha, someone's gonna get hurt real bad tonight... 

Milder version of the same - you're flirting with whoever, and I'm talking serious flirting. The responses make you happy in the heart and mushy in the mind. And out of nowhere, Momma puts in an appearance. Potential poof situation. Not ideal, see? That's what I'm getting at. Virtual privacy ka popat.

Then again, this works both ways. Anytime she decides to crib about me, bitch or rant, I'll get those flashy red notifications. She decides to blog-rant, I can read. Random conversations with friends, I get updates, the inside scoop. 

We could go in for a cordial understanding that the other's profile is not to be looked at, updates to be ignored, but who am I kidding? We're sneaky pigs in that regard - do pardon the language, bas grasp the implication. And it'd get too boring, too soon. Guess we'll let things remain.

I'll just have to remember to flirt in private ;)

** This also holds good for college profs. Detected one on Facebook the other day. This might just turn into a series of "Who's On Facebook?" posts. :|