This is one incident that will tickle my bone, whenever I remember it. We were married for just over a month and I happened to join the same office as my husband's. The journey to office entailed a routine of auto-rickshaw ride followed by a few kilometres of subway train run and finally ending with a taxi drop from station to office gates. In between, a few minutes of wait here and a queue there usually resulted in an entire hour before we reached office. Quite naturally, like all newly-weds, we were pretty happy with the idea of husband-wife going to the same office hand-in-hand and returning home together via various detours. After all, marriage was all about companionship and quality time spent together-wherever, whenever.

We definitely went to office hand-in-hand. I, in newly-acquired high heels, being dragged by my husband to catch the last possible subway train that would ensure timely entry to office, subject to all other connecting modes being equally well-timed! We also returned to the same home but at different times- in this case my husband lagging behind me.

One such rushed morning saw us standing at a busy junction, desperately trying to flag down a taxi. We were late than usual and decided to ditch the usual travel routine. Instead, we pinned all our hopes on the timely hailing of a taxi direct to office. In this way we hoped to avoid a half day mark on the attendance register. As it was the second or the third day for me in my new office, my punctuality record and supervisor’s opinion about me were at stake.

I was standing on the kerb, next to my husband, with heart thumping at an incremental rate with every passing second, arms flailing in all possible patterns and eyes wildly scanning the dense traffic for an empty taxi. It had been almost ten minutes of wait now, but either there were no empty taxies or empty taxies unwilling to go in our direction. Unconsciously, I had started chanting by now… no....not of the holy type… but the unholy type aimed at the unrelenting taxi drivers. Suddenly, my attention was arrested by a long arm waving out of a taxi, beckoning me to get into it. The taxi was amidst a sea of other vehicles, not exactly close to the kerb, but trying to edge towards where I was standing. I looked hard into the taxi window trying to identify the owner of the arm. I also heard the arm-owner urging us “Get in…get in! Fast! Fast!”.

“Wow” I thought, “someone was answering to my chants!”

I kept staring at the face of this Good Samaritan who was offering us a lift. I knew that the face looked extremely familiar….. just could not place it. Thus I remarked to my husband standing next to me. I tugged at his shirt sleeve and tried to draw his attention to this kind man. “See” I said to him, “I know that person. His face looks familiar. Who do you think he is? ”

While my husband did not answer or react to my query right away, I did hear this Good Samaritan holler in a tone that was familiar as well “Hello! What is the matter with you? Get in … will you!?!”

Red with embarrassment and anger, I tugged even harder the sleeve of my unusually mute and unmoving husband for some act of justice at this public hollering by a familiar looking stranger. “How dare he..” I began and then I looked at my husband standing rigidly next to me. “Uh..oh..emm…err…I thought…” I trailed off pathetically as I realised that my husband who was supposed to be standing next to me was actually someone else. He managed to smoothen his crumpled sleeve and sheepishly grin at me while nodding his head at my real husband in a “Sorry, am not a wife-snatcher” way. “Good Day to you” he mumbled and, then, disappeared in the sea of pedestrians.

It took another “WILL YOU PLEASE RETURN TO ME!” holler from inside the taxi to bring me to my senses. I quickly leapt into the taxi. That familiar voice was undoubtedly owned by my husband as was that familiar looking face!

All the while, that I was standing on the kerb, intently scanning the traffic for an empty taxi, my husband had actually left my side and got down on the road to hail a taxi. In the meantime, some other commuter had come to stand next to me and become my ‘companion’ without my realisation. It didn't help with both of them wearing the same coloured full sleeve shirt. Secure in the knowledge that my husband was standing next to me, my mind refused to identify my real husband inside the taxi despite acknowledging his familiarity!

Needless to say that my brand new husband of one month took quite a few months to recover from this shock and it took some bit of effort on my part to convince him that I would never ever forget his face! Till date he teases me about ‘companionship-wherever-whenever’.

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