HAD IT NOT BEEN SAME? – I

My name is M. Swamy, working as a Client Relationship Manager in a MNC and recently shifted to Mumbai. Finding an appropriate shelter in Mumbai is difficult than walking on water. And even compromises doesn’t seem to have mercy on pocket. Anyways after toiling hard with a fair share of ordeals I did find a decent nest for myself – a small but a cosy one with amicable atmosphere around.

Soon I moved in. It was the first Saturday after I moved in, I was relaxing after a long time – tiring weekdays and house searching marathon has taken a toll on me. I badly needed this break. It was 11 AM and I was leisurely sipping my coffee while surfing channels on television. There was knock at the door. “Might be maid, I told Watchman to send someone for petty chores and cooking” thoughts ran into my mind as I was about to open the door. When I opened the door a man, must be in his late thirties in neatly ironed clothes, hair partitioned to the right and a broad smile on his face said, “Hello, my name is Swamy” he introduced himself. “Oh Swamy!” I exclaimed and before I could finish my sentence he interrupted “not O. Swamy, I am M. Swamy”. He tried to correct me as he couldn’t catch the break of words, this was my take on that interruption. However I was a bit more excited which is natural when two people meet for the first time and with same name including the initials and was about to say “Oh M. Swamy” but contained myself not be corrected again. “Yes sir how may I help you?” I politely asked him.

We moved in yesterday to this flat opposite to yours on this floor and thought why not get acquainted with the neighbors. But wanted to meet you first as your name plate caught my attention”, he said while his eyes were pointing towards my name plate which read M. Swamy.

Oh! I nudged my head, I am M. Swamy, Murli Swamy, please come in Mr…” I paused as I wanted to know what M stands for in his name.

I am Manohar”, he completed my sentence as he shook hands with me.

Nice to meet you Manohar, come on in” Murli invited Manohar.

Some other time, as I have lot of stuff to arrange at home. By the way home reminds me, that’s my wife Satya” Manohar pointed towards the iron mesh door of his apartment where his wife stood looking at both the gentlemen.

Satya and Murli waved at each other cordially and Manohar took leave.

And days of breezy exchange of pleasantries followed but a trail of confusions that entrailed surely made them ponder – Had it not been same.

It all began with the credit card bill. Murli received a bill at his address and as he opened it he couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw an exorbitant amount debited on his account and without a second thought he contacted the customer care.

Hello sir, how may I help you?” A routine customer care opening line and before they could conclude with their scripted dialogue Murli flared up… “You guys know no help, stop this charade. Just check how much bill you have just sent me”.

The customer care executive tried to calm him down and asked his card number to check the issue and right then the bell rang, the doorbell as well as in Murli’s brain as he read the card number, it was not his card…