The Missing Identity

The Missing Identity – Funny Short Story

The Missing Identity – Funny Short Story
Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com

It was a fine morning. Sun’s golden rays penetrated Swati’s living room windows and fell on her face. She was lying on the sofa in her living room. It was not a very big room, yet was very well kept. The rug under the table was not even an inch out of place. The paintings on the wall depicting modern art were perfectly aligned. The television was neatly covered with a white embroidered cloth. Everything was well in place but Swati lay in dismay on the sofa. She had a passport in her hand and whenever she glanced at it, her eyes became wet recollecting the previous day’s happenings which had turned her symmetric life topsy turvy.

She was at the Delhi airport returning from Ahmedabad, where she had gone for an interview. She was in a hurry to reach home so that she could start preparing for her upcoming interviews. She was running short of time, she had 3 interviews in 3 different cities in 5 days and she had to clear at least one to get a good job. At the airport, she bumped into a healthy snob. The man gave Swati a stern look from behind his thick spectacles. Swati apologized, picked up her things and ran to catch a taxi for home. It was when she reached home that she realized that her passport had been exchanged with the old man’s passport, Mr. Ram Chandra Parekh. She had to go to Bangalore in two days for another interview.

She had tried the man’s number 46 times since last night but it was switched-off. He was a resident of Gujarat. Swati had no time to go there. As it is, he was in Delhi, so there was no point! There was no point informing the Airport authorities either! She was broken. She kept turning on her sofa. She was now more concerned about how she would reach Bangalore rather than how her interview would go. After she had completed about half a century of turns on her sofa, she became restless. She got up with Mr. Parekh’s passport in her hand and started walking about in the room. She even put the passport in her mandir so that God could get her out of the situation! This was it! Time was running. She had to do something.

Resting her head on her window like a lost soul, she finally got an idea! She will have to be Mr. Parekh! Yes! That was the only thing that could be done now. She got a ticket in his name to start with. Then, she began the major preparations. She stared at Mr. Parekh’s photograph in the passport for long before she could decide on the make-up she needed to put to get a face as heavy as the man’s. She bought a moustache, thick spectacles, a wig, eyebrows, a round cap, a red checked jacket and all that the Gujarati gentleman was wearing the previous day.

She had to strain herself a lot to recollect his outlook, how he walked and how he talked. Her so neat and well kept living room was now messed up with a man’s stuff she had never used in her life before. She got up and went to get ready for a dress rehearsal. She stuffed a cushion in her stomach to look as obese as the man. She put up the moustache, the eyebrows, the wig as neatly as she could. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of people, so things had to be the usual perfect! 40 minutes passed and she was there, Mr. Ram Chandra Parekh part II. She looked like a real man!

Now, it was time to do the rest, she saw 27 Gujarati videos online in order to get that accent. She spent 35 more minutes in learning Mr. Parekh’s address, phone no. and making up a story as to why he had come to Delhi and now going to Bangalore. What if somebody asks?

It was night. She took out the wigs and kept them safely on the table. She kept revising the details from the passport and fell asleep on the sofa itself. Whenever she woke up in the middle of the night, all she could think of was how she would answer the airport authorities, how heavy a voice she should take out to behave like an old Gujarati!

Morning came and she was all set to leave, dressed up and enacting as Mr. Parekh!

“Do I look like Mr. Parekh?” She questioned the taxi driver thrice.

“What sir!” The confused driver replied each time!

“Sir…hmmmmm!!” She said in the heaviest voice she could. Swati was filled with pride for herself!

She carefully took the passport in her hand and entered the airport with confidence. As she entered, she bumped into somebody. She turned around and was surprised beyond shock! She saw Swati Sood part II firmly standing in front of her eyes! She could judge it was Mr. Parekh from those big eyes, but without spectacles this time.

She scanned him from top to bottom and top again. He was very close to what Swati looked in real life. Poor old fellow had to shave off his moustache to be her. He had put up a blood red lipstick to hide his broad lips and his wig was very much like Swati’s hair. The only thing he couldn’t get rid of was this 36 inches stomach which was bulging out from the corner of the saree. Mr. Parekh looked beautiful in the saree though, sarcastically enough! Swati was giggling under her moustache and so could she see Mr. Parekh’s stomach swinging in laughter, with a closed mouth of course! They didn’t want to spoil the game at the last moment. But, Swati was so excited had she winked at Mr. Parekh. An old man eve teasing a fat young lady at the airport, could have the news headlines soon!

They picked up their things and proceeded towards the check-in counter, Swati as Mr. Ram Chandra Parekh and behind her, Mr. Parekh as Swati Sood.

Swati turned towards the beautiful (in true sense this time) lady at the check-in counter and showed her the passport. The lady looked at the passport, then looked at Swati and then Mr. Parekh. Swati started losing heart beats. 7 beats per minute…8 beats per minute…10 beats per minute! She thought she was going to die of an attack! Was the game about to end? Were they caught?

The lady looked at the passport again, raised an eyebrow and finally spoke to Swati, “Sir, I think your passport has been exchanged with that of the lady behind you!”

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