He slammed the door shut and, drenched in sweat, hurriedly dialed his wife’s number on his mobile phone. A couple of people noticed the bag slipping from his hand and started watching him closely. One gentleman, sensing his distress, stood up and approached him, asking, “What happened, Bhatnagar ji? Why are you so worried?”
But Bhatnagar ji himself had no idea what had happened. What could he even say?
Meanwhile, the phone connected, and on the other end, his wife, Mrs. Bhatnagar, was speaking.
“Hello? Yes, tell me. What happened? Did you forget something? Has the meeting started? Tell me, why did you call?”
Hearing his wife’s clear and affectionate voice restored his confidence. He thought he must have been mistaken. He picked up the bag again and started walking toward the cabin door. Meanwhile, his wife kept saying, “Hello, hello,” but the call had already disconnected.
It was indeed a misunderstanding. When he entered the room again, he saw the chair was completely empty. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, placed the bag on the rack, and sat in his chair.
The boss could call for the meeting at any moment. He quickly flipped through a file and adjusted his tie knot with his other hand. He patted his pocket to check for his pen and stood up, thinking to visit the washroom once.
But just then, his phone rang again.
He picked it up. It was Mrs. Bhatnagar calling, likely because the previous call had disconnected in the rush, and now she wanted to know the full story.
He answered, “Yes, yes, tell me... I was in a hurry earlier, that’s why I cut the call. What is it?”
“I don’t care who cut the call or why; I need to speak to Mrs. Bhatnagar!” came a voice from the other end.
Once again, he was startled. He grabbed the phone and checked where the call was coming from. It was from his wife’s number.
His surprise knew no bounds when he realized that a man’s voice was speaking, but the call had come from his wife’s number. And this stranger was insisting he wanted to speak to Mrs. Bhatnagar.
“Hello, hello, who is this? Where are you calling from? Maybe you’ve dialed the wrong number…”
“My number is never wrong. Please let me speak to Mrs. Bhatnagar.”
He was badly shaken. But mustering some courage, he said, “This isn’t her number.”
“I know it’s not her number. But this is your number, correct? And you’re her husband… right? So, a husband can let his wife speak on his phone, can’t he?”
“But... but who are you? And how are you calling from my wife’s number? Where are you? Is my wife not at home? How did you get her phone? I’m not understanding any of this. Please, tell me who you are.”
“Oh! It sounds like you’re at the office,” the voice said. The voice continued, “Okay, perhaps you left for the office a little early today. No worries, I’ll meet Mrs. Bhatnagar at home!”
Enraged and bewildered, Bhatnagar ji stuffed the phone back into his pocket and stormed out of the office. His car was now speeding back toward home.
(To be continued...)
