Contact Number

(Based on a real-life incident occurred to me)

“Anybody left, except me?” I called my cab-mate, already seated in the cab.

“Miss Shilpa Mehra. She is always late,” Harish answered. “And where are you today buddy?”

“Just coming, 2 more minutes. Do you have her number? You must be having,” I said confidently. Shilpa was one of the few hotties we had in our office, and almost every guy who had opted for a cab had picked her number from the cab roster circulated to all employees.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have it.”

“Well, I seriously don’t have,” I said firmly.

“Why so?” he questioned out of curiosity.

“Well,” I answered amusedly, “I broke up with her last week. We are not on talking terms now,” and we both started laughing.

“Anyways, here it is…” Harish read out the number, “Nine-nine-one-zero-zero-zero-six-one-three-three-three.” I noted it down on a piece of paper.

“Thanks. Let me call her up and check the status. See you in a while,” I said, and hung up. The phone had almost run out of battery, so I decided to call her from the landline, referring to the number I had written on that piece of paper.

“Hey Shilpa, this is Jasveer,” I introduced myself.

“Yes.”

“Kitni der hai? Everyone is waiting for you in the cab. Chalna nahi hai? It’s already 4:15.”

“Excuse me. Whom do you wish to speak to?” Shilpa asked in a slightly suspicious tone.

“Of course you madam. Now hurry up,” I told her sternly. She hung up. I hurried downstairs and apologized for being late.

“Is she coming?” Mohnish asked.

“Don’t know. I called her but she behaved weird, and hung up. Fake attitude!” I announced in the cab.

“Softer, softer, big bro,” Mohnish spoke, “She is a beauty yaar.”

“To hell with her beauty. Beauty can’t beat bad behavior, understood?” I reasoned. The not-so-pretty Neha looked at me, and smiled. She was happier learning that beauty was somewhere down in the what-I-want-in-a-girl list of some guys.

As we all waited in the cab, I texted her to make it fast or else, she would be on her own. Shilpa eventually arrived after 10 minutes.

“Hi Shilpa, how are you?” Mohnish tried to initiate talk as she tried to settle down at the rear of the cab.

“Hello guys,” Shilpa greeted all, rendering Mohnish’s attempt of one-on-one conversation futile. I wanted to ‘greet’ her too, but kept mum after Harish signaled me to calm down.

“Mom, can I have a cup of tea? It was a tiring day.” I had reached home an hour later.

“Noodles, anyone?” my sis dashed out of the kitchen.

“Tea post noodles – I wouldn’t mind it,” I smiled at my sister.

“Sure bhaiya, you just relax.”

I spread my legs on the sofa, and switched on the D2H.

Beep Beep. There was a message. I picked up my cell lying on the glass table.

Who r u? Sorry, I shudn’t hav hung up like dis.

This was from a number I recognized. Yes, this was Shilpa’s number – the number I had sent SMS to. No doubt I was surprised. I mean, it was nice on her part to feel sorry about that episode, but the first part of her SMS was intriguing. She knew who I was.

“4:10 again today,” Neha looked at her wrist watch. Shilpa hadn’t arrived yet, and for my cab-mates, I was a volcano waiting to erupt. But I was cool as a cucumber today. That message from Shilpa had pacified the things.

“Hey Shilpa,” I said in a low voice, after Shilpa arrived and adjusted herself with pleasantly-plump Mohnish and Neha in the middle row.

“Hello,” she turned her back, looked at me briefly, and smiled. Mohnish stared at me.

There wasn’t much interaction amongst the guys after that, as most of them dozed off in the cab like they would never wake up, half-dead. Shilpa, like she did on most of the days, resumed flipping pages of her novel from seemingly where she had left off.

I picked up Tropicana Lychee Twirl (my favorite!) from the refrigerator once I reached home. Sis and my mother were nowhere to be seen. Dadi Maa was glued to Aastha channel. I shattered few of my top scores while playing Sudoku on my cellphone, the initial levels. While I lay in the bed, I decided to reply to Shilpa’s previous day’s message, though futile now.

Hey. Did nt reply ystrday 2 ur msg. So, wasup?

What began after that was a series of messages exchanged between us. She seemed inquisitive and wanted to know more about me, a behavior she never exhibited in the cab. We haven’t had much of a chance to interact in the cab, and she was probably hesitant, I presumed.

It felt good after conversing with her through texting. Oh boy! I couldn’t actually believe it was her, the beautiful Neha. I did not see her for the next few days as there was a change in my shift pattern. I had started to go in the evening shift. But we continued to message each other, daily. We never discussed work. It was all about knowing each other on personal front, more and more.

I had started craving to hear her voice. I messaged her.

Shilpa, wanna tak 2 u. Can v?

I did not receive any reply for the next 2 hours. WTF, I thought. May be she did not like the idea. Then suddenly, it beeped. I quickly reached out for the handset, anticipating Shilpa’s SMS.

2 BHK flat in Noida * starting 24 lakhs, contact Angara Builders 9900991234. Limited offer, early possession in 24 months.

Bastards! That bloody SMS pissed me off. I threw my cellphone on the bed and went to the other room, restless. After 20-odd minutes, I returned, only to see a missed call from her. I called her back, but she disconnected the call, which was followed by her SMS.

Sorry, can’t take ur call. Wanna meet u though. Tomorow, 3 pm, CP. Reply YES or NO.

Yes! Yes!! Yes!!! I wanted to respond, but contained my excitement. I texted her.

Wud luv 2. Ok, vil reach, sharp @ 3.

After a sleepless night, I wondered the next morning if I should present her with flowers. Was it a date? Or just a casual meeting? But then, she had offered to meet. It was of course a date, I convinced myself.

I carried a bunch of roses, a mix of yellow and red, keeping both the options open to her, and waited to catch a glimpse of the gorgeous gal with bated breath. Shilpa called.

“Hey! Where are you?” I enquired.

“I am near the Central Park, just crossing the road,” she replied. “And you? Oh, I see….that must be you. Coming.”

“You are sounding different,” I said, as my eyes were set across the road searching for her.

“As if we have spoken earlier,” she giggled on phone, then suddenly hung up.

“Hi,” a shrill voice grasped my attention, before I could make out what she meant.

“I’m Shilpa. Jasveer, right?” she extended her hand.

“Sorry?” I was stumped. In front of me stood a very ordinary looking girl, wearing glasses, dressed in a pale green salwar-suit.

“Jasveer, right?” she repeated, her hand still extended, waiting to shake hands.

I was in a fix. It was too little time, but I had to react. I decided not to take it forward.

“Sorry, I am no Jasveer. You must be mistaken,” I replied politely, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Oh, really?” she stepped back, but kept gazing at me.

“I am waiting for my girlfriend. She must be here any moment,” I said after a dead silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry to bother you,” she left and stood a few meters away. I looked in her direction after a while, and saw her reaching out for her cellphone.

“Hell!” I quickly pressed a key on my handset to put it on mute. She called thrice, and I avoided looking at her. I did not want to give her any hint whatsoever. But deep down I knew, that she knew. She did not budge, and apparently felt disturbed, as far as I could make out from her body language. Eventually, I escaped her sight and did not turn back again.

I had my mobile switched off for the rest of the day. When I switched it on late in the night, it beeped.

I noe it was u Jasveer. U r too arrogant. I didn’t expect it.

She called me arrogant as I was fairly good looking, and she had concluded that her average looks was the reason for my insensitive behavior. I felt guilty, more so because I actually did not intend to do that. I could have met her, talked to her, and left without making any commitments. But what I did was insanely wrong….WRONG! Probably I had little time to react, and act.

Intrigued by this event, I narrated the whole story to Harish on Monday.

“How is this possible?” he asked, puzzled.

“How would I know? Something is fishy. I don’t know,” I sighed. “You gave me her number, right?”

“Yeah, and you even talked to Shilpa, asking her to reach quickly as we were getting late, remember na?”

“Right, I did.” I pondered for a while. “Wait…hey, give me her number again,” I said hastily.

“Sure. It is…nine-nine-one-zero-zero-six-one-three-three-three.”

“Cross check. It must be nine-nine-one-zero-zero-zero-six-one-three-three,” I told him, after I matched his words with the number I had stored in the phonebook. “This is the number I have been sending SMSes to,” I added.

“Wrong. That’s not the correct number. I have verified,” Harish confirmed. “What’s the matter dude?”

“Gosh…we have to test this, now!” I hollered. “Speak your number man, fast.”

“Okay, okay. 9899058480.”

I dialed a number from my cellphone, and then hurriedly asked, “Do you have a landline?”

He pointed at the phone lying on his desk. I dialed a number and his phone rang. I looked at him, and he looked back at me in bewilderment.

“It’s ringing, so?”

“I dialed this,” I showed him the last dialed number on the landline phone instrument.

“98990584801? How come? It is 11-digit. How did it connect to me?” Harish asked me, taken aback.

“It does. I was not aware either. You suffix a 10-digit number with any number, and it’s going to consider only the first 10, and dial that,” I explained to him. “And this holds true only when you dial it from a landline. Before this, I tried dialing this 11-digt number from my cellphone too, but it failed to connect,” I added.

“Hmm....”

“And you dog, you gave me this number that day,” I pulled out that piece of paper I still had in my wallet. 99100061333, it read.

“Agreed. But what about all those messages you have been sending to that girl? Her number is 9910006133, correct? So what made you send messages to this number….”

“Uh, I am at fault too. That day, I did not refer to this piece of paper in the cab, and texted her on the basis of what I could recall from what you had dictated. I dropped the last digit and sent her the SMS. Strange!” I said ruefully.

“Well, you could still have spent time with her. You did not even bother to give her due respect,” he complained, objecting to my behavior when I had met her.

“I…I…well, I was a bit shocked. I was anticipating Shilpa, the charming beauty, and then all of a sudden I confront this girl-next-door, average types. I do feel culpable about the whole episode,” I tried to justify myself.

The story spread to many, including the one around whom it revolved, though indirectly. I met Shilpa a few days later in the cafeteria.

“It’s okay. You shouldn’t take life too seriously,” Shilpa said, sensing the uneasy state I was in, tete-a-tete with her. “So her name was Shilpa too…,” she continued.

“Now that you know everything, let me tell you that my emotions were for you, it was only that there was some confusion and…”

“…and?” Shilpa interrupted.        

“And I like you,” I blurted out. I felt numb after making that heroic statement. She laughed, and kept laughing unless I asked her to stop.

We dated for six months, before she left the organization and joined one in another city. We kept in touch, and tried catching up whenever she came back to pay visit to her parents.

Then one odd day, I received a friend request from Shilpa. No, not the girl I had dated, but the girl I had ditched. She was Shilpa Thakur – I got to learn from her Facebook profile. I accepted her friend request. We interacted casually online, and I apologized for what had happened in the past. She seemed to have forgotten that and forgave me. That was some relief! I had a guilty conscience all this while.

“Hello…yes...okay, just a moment,” my wife picked the ringing phone. I lay in the bed, half-asleep. “You got a call honey, wake up,” she gave me a shove.

“Kiska hai, early morning?” I inquired, rubbing my eyes.

“Forgot to ask. Take it,” she handed over the phone to me.

“Hello. Who’s this….uh….saale Harish…,” I shouted at the top of my voice, brimming with excitement. “Where were you buddy? 3 years…no contact, nothing. Yeah, I did not have your new number…Haan, you just talked to my wife…Thanks, thanks.”

“You know her bro,” I told Harish, when he asked about my better half. “She is Shilpa.”

“You got married to Shilpa Mehra? Can’t believe this! And what about that girl…you met once, did she ever contact you again? She was….”

“….Shilpa Thakur. She had added me on Facebook.” I kept quiet for a few seconds, and then broke my silence. “How can you be so sure that I got married to Shilpa Mehra?” I laughed.

“Of course you married Shilpa Meh….wait….what do you mean?” Harish asked, perplexed. “Do you want to kill me with suspense? Spill the beans! Shilpa Mehra or Shilpa Thakur?”

“Alright, alright. She is Shilpa…..” The call got disconnected, before I could finish.

“Oh Jesus! Sweetheart, could you please give me the charger. The phone has run out of battery,” I yelled.

(End of story)