The clock said 7 pm. Another working day was over. After checking on the status of the flights for the evening and ensuring that my staff for the night shift was logged on to their phones and calls were coming in smoothly into the computerized Alcatel monitor system, I stepped out to the pleasant November evening of Kolkata.

One of the staff called out, “Ma’am, there’s a call for you”. I asked her to take the message if the call was about seat confirmation. “A passenger, Mr Ahuja, insists on talking to you.” I returned to my desk and put on the headphone.

“Hello! Am I talking to the reservations in-charge?”

“Yes. How may I help you?”

“You’ve got to save me. I’m Niraj Ahuja. I have a time limit booking for the Mumbai flight and I am on the way, stuck in traffic. Please keep my ticket ready. I just have to get on to that Mumbai flight,” he said in one breath.

“That will not be possible. They’ll be boarding in ten minutes.”

 “You have to do this and also keep a boarding card ready for me, I’m a very frequent flyer and that’s the least you can do.”

“But that’s not possible Mr Ahuja.”

“I just know you will do it,” he said and hung up.

Maybe he was right. I asked the staff to print his tickets (those days computerized ticketing had just started) and called the backup office to get his boarding card ready.

“I’m not going to take a delay,” the duty manager cribbed. I told him not to worry, but now I was not only angry at Niraj Ahuja, but angrier at myself for doing this for him.

“Hi, I’m Niraj Ahuja,” a loud voice boomed at the entrance, breaking my reverie. I looked at the direction of the voice and just froze: So this is the audacious Niraj Ahuja! My mind rushed to the early morning a month back when I was in Delhi airport waiting to take the morning flight. This guy was walking up and down in front of the row of seats that I was seated on. He was about 6’2” tall, broad shoulders, athletic frame and all, wearing a royal blue shirt with a yellowish tie and beige trousers.

“... announces a 30-minute delay of its flight to Kolkata. This delay is due to the fog over Delhi Airport. Inconvenience caused to passengers is deeply regretted,” the male voice in the PA booth said and I looked up to see the man in blue standing right over my head with a broad grin. He was pleased that I would keep sitting where I was for another 30 minutes or so. The grin made him look like a child of 10 who was thrilled at having got a candy. I could not help smiling back. The grin had remained embedded in my heart.

Then my mind immediately raced to that evening at Kolkata airport a week back when during the boarding of the Mumbai flight, I was standing in for a staff at the entrance to the aero bridge and collecting boarding card stubs. Suddenly, I felt one card being shoved right under my chin. I looked up in irritation at the encroachment on my body space and there, right in front of me, was Mr Mischievous Grin again. I looked away, but not before I noticed him looking at the name on the tag on my chest.

And now.

 “Oh! So Niraj Ahuja, you knew that it was me, didn’t you,” I asked stupidly.

“Sure, I did,” he said. And grinned again..

“I’m sorry about keeping you from leaving the airport but I just had to get on the flight and I was stuck in that huge traffic, Please swipe my card for the ticket amount,” he said.

“Let’s rush to the departure. I need to see you through or else I’ll have to take responsibility for the delay of the flight.”

 “Would you have coffee with me, I really owe you one for everything,” he said as we strode across the hall.

 “You don’t have to, I was just doing my job.”

“Your job doesn’t keep you till 8 pm as it is doing now. Honestly, I’d just like to show you how grateful I am.”

“Ok, but we can just about grab a coffee at the lounge. You go through the security check first. Meanwhile I will hand over your flight coupon.”

The Oberoi lounge staff knew me well so our coffee was brought in almost immediately. I was unusually quiet; I had somehow fantasized this situation so many times ever since I first saw him at Delhi, and now that it was a reality, my speech had suddenly deserted me.

“I’m based in Delhi,” he said. Head the Marketing and Sales department of a European MNC. Sorry, but I have exhausted my cards,” he said, looking into his wallet. I was hardly listening: I could hear little other than my heartbeats. Moreover, I already knew almost everything about him: after he had shoved the boarding card under my chin that evening, I had fished for details about him in the loyalty database.

“So when you called me, you knew it was me?”

He grinned again and said, “Honestly, yes. And more honestly, I had called from the airport itself. Just had to do something drastic to get your attention.”

“You are such a rascal, Niraj. You could have cost me my job. Couldn’t you find a more innovative way to get my attention?” I was grinning now, ear to ear.

I was thrilled that all this was not just a coincidence and that he had taken all the trouble to get through to me. A woman loves being chased, just as a man loves to chase.

I saw a staff come rushing: he was looking for the missing passenger. “Ok Niraj, you’ve got to run now.”

While rushing through the corridor, Niraj handed me his boarding card, “Scribble your number here, quickly.”

I wrote down the number, and he flashed a smile, as if it was one big hug.

On his next visit to Kolkata one evening I met him at the arrival hall and he shoved a small gift packed box in pretty pink ribbons and said “Just had to get you something for that which took my breath away – Your Smile”.

“Thanks, but you needn’t have done this” I said. I was so touched by the gesture.

We had coffee at the restaurant in the Airport that evening and dinner the next day.  He returned to Delhi the morning after and I saw him off right up to the aircraft.

For a week after that I didn’t hear from him. Obviously worried about what might have happened to him I retrieved his number from our loyalty member data base and called him one morning.

A female voice took the call and thinking it was his secretary I asked “May I speak to Niraj”.

“He is in the shower now; he will be leaving for Zurich; May I take a message”.

 I was really surprised, but I smiled to myself - in the shower at office, quiet comfortable he must be I thought to myself.  

“May I know who I’m speaking with” I asked

“I’m his wife” she said. I thought I had heard wrong so I asked again “Who”.

“His Wife”. She said again. I felt like someone had struck me a blow on my cheek and the fierce pressure of it sent my head reeling. I was shell shocked. A lump formed in my throat, my cheeks were flushed from the impact, while my eyes began to blur from the sudden gush of tears.

“Who should I say called?” his wife asked.

 “I’m calling to reconfirm his flying with us today and to inform him that his flight to Zurich is on time” I said almost chocking on my words. “Have a pleasant day Ma’am” I said and disconnected. I let the tears flow freely after that.