A funny story of two strangers on strangersonline.com
At 11:47 p.m., Ravi had opened the fridge three times, hoping a better snack would appear if he gave it another chance.
It had not.
So the twenty-five-year-old opened strangersonline.com instead. Somewhere across the city, twenty-four-year-old Naina had just abandoned a film whose hero had spent forty minutes misunderstanding something one phone call could have fixed.
They met under the names Ravi25 and Naina24.
Ravi25: Hi.
Naina24: That’s your opening line? I would like a refund.
Ravi25: You haven’t paid anything.
Naina24: I’ve invested three seconds. My family had hopes for them.
Ravi sat up. This looked more promising than the fridge.
Ravi25: Fine. Hello, respected stranger. Please accept this upgraded greeting.
Naina24: Better. Does it come with a warranty?
Ravi25: Seven days. Physical damage to my feelings isn’t covered.
Naina24: What brings you here?
Ravi25: Boredom. You?
Naina24: I was looking for intelligent conversation.
Ravi25: Terrible timing. You just missed him.
Naina laughed loudly enough to wake the cat sleeping beside her chair. The cat looked at her, looked at the laptop, and moved away.
Ravi25: How’s it going so far?
Naina24: One member of the audience has walked out.
Naina decided that anyone asking for more of her evening should face a proper selection process.
Naina24: Tell me about yourself.
Ravi25: Is this a chat or an interview?
Naina24: Depends on your answer. There are other candidates.
He glanced at the kitchen towel on his chair. For reasons he could not explain, he draped it around his neck like a tie.
Ravi25: I’m hardworking, punctual, and excellent at working under pressure.
Naina24: When did you last do the laundry?
Ravi25: I’d prefer a technical question.
Naina24: Greatest strength?
Ravi25: I can tell when someone is angry from the number of full stops.
Naina24: Fine.
Ravi25: See? Terrifying.
Naina24: Greatest weakness?
Ravi25: When someone says ‘we need to talk’, I confess to things I haven’t done.
She began typing her next question, deleted it, and tried something else.
Naina24: Salary expectations?
Ravi25: Two proper replies and an occasional ha ha. Performance bonus if you stop calling me candidate.
Naina24: We’ll get back to you.
Ravi25: Please. I’ve already bought formal wear.
He told her about the towel. She had to put her mug down.
Naina24: You’re hired. Probation starts now.
Ravi25: Thank you, ma’am.
Naina24: First warning.
He removed the towel. Probation sounded exhausting.
Their first serious disagreement arrived four minutes later.
Ravi25: Chai or coffee?
Naina24: Coffee. Strong. No sugar.
Ravi25: Ah. You drink the same thing my boss sounds like.
Naina24: And you?
Ravi25: Chai. Ginger. Cardamom. Emotional support.
Naina24: That’s a relationship with a saucepan.
Ravi25: It has been there for me.
Naina explained that coffee helped her think clearly. Ravi asked why, if that were true, she was still talking to him.
Naina24: I may need a stronger brand.
Ravi25: My chai never judges me.
Naina24: It’s boiling water, Ravi. The bar is underground.
They argued about tiny tea glasses, enormous coffee mugs, and whether charging extra for milk foam counted as an elaborate prank. Neither changed sides.
Then Naina mentioned dunking biscuits.
Ravi25: Careful. I lost a good one this morning.
Naina24: How long did you hold it under?
Ravi25: I looked away for one second.
Naina24: That’s what they all say.
They observed a brief silence for the biscuit.
Ravi25: He was too young.
Naina24: He was a digestive.
Ravi25: And yet you understood me.
By half past midnight, Ravi was hungry enough to make a dangerous claim.
Ravi25: You should know I cook.
Naina24: Which dishes?
Ravi25: Many. I’m very versatile.
Naina24: Name three.
Ravi25: Noodles in a bowl. Noodles on a plate. Noodles straight from the pan.
He took the laptop into the kitchen, set it on a dry counter away from the stove, and put a saucepan on to boil. While the noodles cooked, he tried flirting.
Ravi25: Are you a magician? Because when I talk to you, everything else disappears.
Naina24: Check your stove.
He checked. Most of the water had disappeared.
Ravi25: Interesting development.
Naina24: Define interesting.
Ravi25: Dinner is now one noodle.
He turned off the heat and lifted the tangled lump with his spoon. It stayed together with impressive determination.
Ravi25: I’ve invented a noodle paperweight.
Naina24: Finally. Food for people who work through lunch.
Ravi25: The texture is disappointing.
Naina24: So is your pickup line. At least you’re consistent.
Ravi looked at the saucepan, then at her message, and started laughing.
Ravi25: What would you have said if the line had worked?
Naina24: Probably ‘check your stove’ with a heart at the end.
He made toast. It seemed wise to quit while the kitchen still respected him.
A knock interrupted Naina just as she was typing another insult about his cooking.
Her mother stood in the doorway holding the television remote.
‘Why are you laughing at this time?’
‘Learning something,’ Naina said, reaching for the nearest book.
Her mother glanced at it. ‘Then turn it the right way up.’
Naina corrected the book with the dignity of someone rearranging her entire future.
‘And fix this remote. Your father says the batteries have forgotten him.’
When Naina returned to the chat, six messages were waiting.
Ravi25: Hello?
Ravi25: Was the magician line that bad?
Ravi25: I have others.
Ravi25: Actually, that sounds like a threat.
Ravi25: Please disregard.
Ravi25: The toast is good, by the way.
Naina24: Mum came in. I said I was learning something.
Ravi25: You are. Never leave noodles alone with a flirt.
Naina24: She wanted the remote fixed.
Ravi25: Ah. Family technical support. Unpaid, permanent position.
Naina24: I turned the batteries around. Apparently I’m a genius now.
Ravi25: My dad calls me whenever the TV says HDMI. He says it’s asking for my password.
Naina covered her mouth with both hands.
From the hallway, her mother called, ‘Very funny book!’
A little later, Naina asked a question without a joke attached.
Naina24: Was your day actually okay?
Ravi watched the cursor blink. He had spent the day changing a presentation, then changing it back after someone senior remembered liking the first version.
Ravi25: Bit rubbish, honestly. You?
Naina24: Same. I sent someone the wrong attachment at work. Then sent the correction without attaching anything.
Ravi25: A bold two-part series.
Naina24: The third email was just me slowly leaving my body.
Ravi25: Last month I said ‘you too’ when a waiter told me to enjoy my food.
Naina24: That’s normal.
Ravi25: Then I tried to explain. For about a minute. He was holding six plates.
She laughed again, but more gently this time.
Naina24: Nice to talk without having to sound impressive.
Ravi25: Good, because I used up my impressive material at ‘hi’.
For a few minutes, they talked about ordinary things: annoying alarm clocks, unfinished books, the pleasure of cancelling plans when both people secretly wanted to stay home.
Then Ravi typed a sentence, deleted it, and typed it again.
Ravi25: You’re easy to talk to.
Naina24: Careful. That was almost smooth.
Ravi25: Sorry. Won’t happen again.
Naina24: Didn’t say I was complaining.
He read that last message twice before remembering the toast in his hand.
Then his internet stopped working.
Ravi stared at the screen. The timing felt personal.
He checked his connection, leaned under the desk, and discovered that his foot had pulled the router cable loose. Getting it back in required kneeling on a pen, bumping his head, and questioning every choice that had led to his furniture arrangement.
When the connection recovered and his messages finally went through, Naina had been waiting nearly two minutes.
Naina24: That compliment scared you badly, huh?
Ravi25: Router cable. Under the desk. Hit my head. Long story.
Naina24: You’ve just told all of it.
Ravi25: There were emotions.
Naina24: I assumed you were Googling your next reply.
Ravi25: Google couldn’t handle this level of pressure.
He rubbed his head and grinned at the screen.
Ravi25: Did you miss me?
Naina24: I missed the entertainment. There’s a difference.
Ravi25: Of course. Completely professional arrangement.
Naina24: You’re still on probation.
Ravi25: Does crawling under furniture count as dedication?
Naina24: Depends. Did you find any of the laundry?
He looked down at a sock beside the router.
Ravi25: I’d prefer a technical question.
This time, she was the one who read the last message twice, still smiling.
At 1:32 a.m., Naina announced that she was going to sleep.
At 1:41, they were discussing whether a samosa counted as a vegetable delivery system.
At 1:53, she admitted she had gone to the kitchen and made toast too.
Ravi25: Inspired by my cooking?
Naina24: Reassured that even you could manage it.
They raised imaginary pieces of toast to a highly successful evening. His noodles were unsalvageable, her unread book was still open on the desk, and neither had thought about work for a while.
Naina24: All right. Final performance review.
Ravi25: Nervous, but ready.
Naina24: Opening line: terrible. Cooking: under investigation. Conversation: annoyingly good.
Ravi25: Am I getting the bonus ha ha?
Naina24: Ha ha.
Ravi25: I’ll inform my family.
Before saying goodnight, they agreed they would like to talk again and found a way they were both comfortable with. Ravi saved her as ‘Naina — Human Resources’. She saved him as ‘Ravi — Check the Stove’.
Then, finally, came the last message.
Ravi25: So, about that refund?
Naina24: Rejected. I’ve decided to keep the product.
He was still smiling when another message arrived.
Naina24: But throw away the towel tie. We’re a casual workplace.
Ravi looked at the towel on his chair. He folded it with unnecessary dignity.
Somewhere across the city, Naina waited for his reply, took another bite of toast, and decided she could stay awake for one more minute.
