Wrong Number-Ii

Then it all came to me. My brain shook out of its stupor and I could see the light coming in from behind the clouds.

I was to go to a client site that afternoon. The office was in Flora Fountain, a walking distance from my office. The client I was going to that afternoon was the corporate office of a Dye processing plant. It was a private firm with the partners having interest in more than one pie.

To cut a long story short it was a crammed office. I shared a small cabin with an old man who was there Mondays to Thursdays. The office had a phone and it was a direct line.

The general work area and the inner office of my boss were divided by a glass partition. I recited the number fast and the time to call before Ashok could bring the receiver to his ears and disconnected the line. It was a gamble but then what is life without a bit of risk taking I thought and smiled.

"Hello" he banged the receiver and came out.

"Who was it?" Ashok enquired

"None of your business" I said with a smile.

"You think you are too smart" he said angrily.

I looked at his face red at having been outsmarted. I burst out laughing laying it thick with glee at his discomfort.

I was in good spirits and more than eager to visit the client. To be honest with you I hated having to share the office space with the old man. He was loud and gruffly. He spoke on the phone too long, loud and in Guajarati a language, which I had no clue about.

It was a busy morning with lot of things to do. Before I realized it was time to go. I let my boss know and trudged my way along with fast moving traffic and people. The rains were gone and the afternoon Sun was bearing down on me. I was glad when I walked into the cool comforts of the air conditioned office.

Surprise! Surprise!

The old codger was in and sitting, across from the chair I normally sat.

Urgh%$%%%% Blistering barnacles as Captain Haddock from Tintin comics books would say.

He was on the phone. I sat in the chair waiting. The phone rang many a time after that, sometimes I picked and sometimes he did. Age had not slowed his reflexes. The calls were mostly his or wrong numbers. Then it came and I lost the battle for quick reflex action at the crunch time or when it counted the most. He picked up and said "Hello"

I was biting my nails hoping against hope it was not her.

Then I heard the four letter word "Ravi" he said

"Give it to me" I said "It is mine"

"You are not Ravi" said the old man.

He then called out aloud "Ravi"

Then I remembered there was a Ravi in the company, a shy young man who kept to himself.

He walked in and the old man said with a toothy grin "a girl for you"

Ravi took the phone and said "hello". The old man sat close hanging on to any word that would come out from the conversation. I was nervous and upset, seeing my opportunity slide out of my hand and there was nothing I could do.

I could hear the girls refer to our earlier conversation during the day and Ravi just kept shaking his head

"Che Che" said Ravi with discomfort.

I heard the voice of the girls talking in the background "it seems he has given us the wrong number".

Ravi kept the phone down and walked away. I was distraught and wanted put my head on the desk and bang my hand on it. Why me? I was inconsolable.

Then I realized the truth 'what God of wrong numbers gives; he takes away too"