Uma’s Faux Pas (907 words)

 

"Is this how you submit files to the GM of the company? Don’t you know this is going to the board of directors? The file covers are dog-eared, the pages aren’t numbered, and the references aren’t flagged. Do you expect them to sift through the entire thing? I won’t tolerate such shoddy work!" Uma snapped, tossing the file onto the table.

The young man, handsome and in his early thirties, stood silently. He retrieved the file and left the room without a word. Uma, 28, had recently been appointed GM of the finance department. Eager to make an impression, she was tasked with preparing a report for an important board meeting in the absence of a finance director. A rank holder with some experience, Uma wanted to stand out right away.

A short while later, the young man returned, the file now in a new folder—pages numbered, references flagged, and corrections made in pencil to both figures and grammar. Embarrassed, Uma realized she had overlooked glaring errors in her report.

Recovering quickly, she said, “Thank you for the good work, but you should’ve ensured the file was in order from the start. What’s your name?”

“Kumar,” he replied simply.

“Thank you, Kumar. I’ll finalize it now. You can go.”

The next day, Uma waited anxiously for the call to present her report. Noon had come and gone, and she was ready to impress the board with her thorough understanding of the subject. Finally, she was summoned.

Entering the boardroom, she saw several directors seated around an oval mahogany table, with other officials seated along the walls.

"Welcome, Miss Uma," said the Managing Director. "We’ve reviewed your report, but our new Director of Finance needs some clarifications. He’ll be here shortly."

Just then, the door to a side room opened, and to Uma’s shock, Kumar emerged. He took a seat next to the MD.

"How do you do, Miss Uma?" he asked, pulling the file toward him. Uma realized her mistake—she had assumed Kumar was a junior executive. She felt a surge of embarrassment.

"Please join us at the table," he said with a smile, gesturing to the chair beside him. “I must say, the analysis in your report was impressive, and the recommendations were well thought out.” With a grin, he added, “Numbered pages and flagged references made it very easy to follow.”

After asking for a few clarifications and thanking her, Kumar concluded, “I look forward to working with you.”

That evening, Uma found herself in Kumar’s office. “I owe you an apology,” she began. “I mistook you for a junior executive yesterday and spoke rudely. I’m truly sorry and seek your forgiveness.”

“Don’t worry,” Kumar said, smiling. “It’s all forgotten. I knew you had misunderstood, so I just played along.”

That night, as Uma lay in bed, Kumar’s face kept appearing in her thoughts—his calm demeanour, his willingness to help, and how he had quietly done more than she’d asked. She was intrigued by his maturity and amused by how he had played along without revealing his true identity. Fantasies of working closely with him, and perhaps even something more, swirled in her mind, though she knew workplace relationships could be tricky and frowned upon.

A few days later, Uma’s car wouldn’t start in the basement parking lot. Frustrated, she was about to call a cab when Kumar appeared.

“Need help?” he asked.

“I don’t think you can fix this. It’s probably an electrical issue,” she replied.

Undeterred, Kumar opened the car door and gave it a try. After checking under the bonnet, he managed to get the engine running.

“Wow! You’re good with cars!” Uma said, surprised. “Where’s your car?”

“I took a cab today. Mine’s in the workshop,” Kumar explained.

“Let me drop you off,” she offered. “Where do you live?”

“South Extension.”

“That’s on my way,” Uma said with a smile, though she knew she didn’t really mean it.

As they drove, Kumar broke the silence. “Do you remember the first day we met in your office? That evening, I told my mom about it. She found it amusing and said, ‘I’d love to meet that bold lady who’s going to work with you.’ She’s been asking to meet you ever since.”

There was a pause before he added, “If you don’t mind, would you come over for a few minutes? I promised my mom I’d introduce you.”

 Uma caught off guard but flattered, replied, “Sure, I’d love to meet your mother. “Uma felt, however, that there was something more than what met the eye behind this unusual request but could not ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

At Kumar’s home, they entered a large, elegant living room. A dignified elderly woman sat in a recliner, watching a TV program on Margazhi Utsav. “Amma, this is Uma, the colleague I told you about,” Kumar said with a chuckle.

As the older woman smiled warmly and beckoned Uma closer, a young woman entered the room, holding a child.

“Oh, you must be Uma!” she exclaimed. “We heard everything about you and the conversation between you and Kumar in the first meeting. Believe me, we all had a great laugh and enjoyed it. I’m Rohini, Kumar’s wife.”

Uma’s heart sank. Her imagined romance shattered in an instant. The colour drained from her face even as the room filled with laughter, but she stood there, frozen, her fantasies dissolving into reality.