When I entered the café a bit late last week, I saw Swami was staring at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe. I peeped in and raised my eyebrows towards Jigneshbhai wondering what the tension was about.
One missed call. From an unknown number.
“Jigneshbhai!” Swami said, panic in his voice. “Who could it be? I checked on True Caller also. But even True Caller doesn’t know who it is. Strange!”
Across the table, Jigneshbhai stirred his coffee slowly. “Hmm,” he said.
But Swami had already thought of possible callers. “What if it’s the bank? Or the electricity office?”
“True Caller recognises them, in general,” I said.
“Yeah. Or what if it is some head hunter offering me a job opportunity?” Swami broke into a rare optimistic smile.
“Or worse — What if it was Raichand, from a new number?” Jigneshbhai teased, bringing Swami back from his dreamy smile.
Swami ignored Jigneshbhai’s jab. His mind was racing. “It could also be a lottery!”
“Or a fraud call that even True Caller hasn’t detected yet!” Jigneshbhai poked Swami again.
But Swami was in a world of his own. He dialled back the missed call immediately, even as Jigneshbhai and I stared at him in surprise. The number was switched off.
“That’s it,” Swami groaned. “I’ll never know now. This could change my life!”
Jigneshbhai took a sip of his coffee, eyes calm as always, aware that this human volcano of a friend in front of him wouldn’t take long before it went dormant.
“Swami,” he said, “not every ring needs an answer.”
Swami blinked, his fingers frozen above the dial pad.
“But… what if it was important?”
Jigneshbhai smiled. “If it was, they’ll call back. If it wasn’t, you just saved yourself some peace.”
Swami stared at his phone, torn between anxiety and logic.
I quietly finished my muffin, certain he’d still be staring back when the next call came in.
***