|
|
|
Mistaken identity
“May I come in madam?” I asked as I knocked on the door bearing the words Mrs Jane Leeman, manager Ali Enterprises. “Yes” was the short reply. I was not able to see the face of the speaker as she had her back towards me. She turned around still going through the files. Closing her file she lifted her face saying “Young man........” but suddenly, as though I was the ghost from the past, started gaping at me “You!” She exclaimed.
“Yes madam, I was ......” but my voice failed as she fell to the ground, unconscious. I stood there frozen and for a split of second felt that I would faint too. The next moment I was running out for her secretary. In my bewilderment, instead of explaining the whole situation I grabbed her hand and dragged her inside the room. Then she did exactly what she should have done at that very moment; she called an ambulance and within minutes we were heading for the hospital.
I was unemployed for three months and had been to Ali Enterprises for an interview. Not in my wildest dreams had I imagined that all this would happen to me. While I sat there waiting for the manager's recovery the same thought struck me, “why had she fallen unconscious after seeing me?” I tried to look at it from every possible angle, but failed. I was still pondering over her attitude when I saw the doctor approaching me. “How is she now?” I inquired.
“She is fine and wants to see you.”
I was relieved to hear that and as I also half wanted to see her, proceeded towards the emergency ward. “How are you feeling madam?” I asked entering the ward. “Much better please have a seat.”
I did as I was asked.
“He was my son,” she sighed, "he died in an accident last year. I thought you were him when I saw you. AAH! How foolish of me I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.”
All the time she was speaking she stared at a locket in her hands. “This is,”' she said passing the locket to me “his photograph”. It was only when I looked at the photograph that I saw just how familiar we were. “He was your son,” I found myself saying in amazement.
The answer surprised me even more. “Yes, no in a manner of speaking no, I had adopted him, his mother had cancer and there was no hope, as I was.....”
“Was he a twin?” I interrupted, although I knew I had no twin.
“I have no idea, probably yes, but wait a minute.....” But I found myself running out of the ward. I don't know how I managed to reach my home and back again with a photograph of my mother who, I had been told by a teacher at the orphanage where I was brought up, had died from cancer when I was hardly two years old. “Was this the lady you adopted your son from?” I asked showing her the photograph.
“Oh yes! Why then you must be his twin,” she wept.
This unpredictable incident gave me the love of a mother I had always lacked in the orphanage and even got the dream job I had always wished for. i
|
|
|
|
