Pick Pocketed

In December 2007 I had gone to Mumbai to attend an official meeting. I wanted to use this trip to also look up my flat, which I had purchased way back in year 1997. After having purchased the ticket I waited for the train. Finding the approaching train too crowded, I immediately shifted my wallet from my back pocket to the front one of my blue jeans. I do that whenever I find a bus, train or any other public place overcrowded just to reduce the chances of it being flicked. Having done that I generally keep my hand in the pocket itself. I was doing the same, this time too.

To get inside the crowded Mumbai local train, you have to use your muscle power, employing both your arms, so it was not my sweet will to continue keeping my hand in the pocket while getting inside the train. My hand had come out briefly from my pocket in jostling with the crowd while getting in. The train had started moving as the total halt at a suburban station is about ten seconds only. After finding a convenient corner, the first thing I did was to check my wallet. Well it was gone and gone with it were Rs 20,000/- (18 crisp notes of Rs 1000 denomination and rest in hundreds). I was dumb struck to find only my handkerchief in my left pocket. I did not find it prudent to shout, as I could guess that the job was done while I was boarding the train and the guy who pulled out my wallet, might have stayed back. Next I checked my right front pocket where I had kept my mobile phone. Thankfully it was in place. I took it out and rang up my son at Delhi and asked him to immediately block my credit card. I was foolishly not only carrying a large amount of cash in my wallet but also some cards including my credit card, and my office identity card.

I got down at the next station and returned back to the same place where I had boarded the train. I looked around the place. I had heard that the modus operandi of the pick pockets is to chuck the wallet away after taking out the money to avoid getting caught red handed. There was no sign of any wallet. I went straight to the Railway Police station and lodged a complaint. I obtained a copy of the complaint listing out the articles which I had lost to help me obtain duplicate or fresh ones.

I was penniless in Mumbai for some time but luckily, in addition to having a few fast friends there, on whom I could depend for financial help in such a crisis, a colleague from our office was also there to attend the meeting. Even other officers who had come to attend the meeting from other offices and were staying in the same hotel, offered to help me after listening to my experience. I found it more convenient to request my colleague from my office to pay my hotel bills through his credit card and also borrowed some money from him for my pocket expenses.

I have come back to my city and am hoping against hopes that the 'pick pocket ji' may be kind enough to use a fraction of the booty that he got from my wallet and send my belongings to my present address which has been prominently given on my office Identity Card.

Sweet and Brave

It was a bright Sunday morning of 1995. Sweety was dressed in a bright lehenga choli with bangles of matching colours. Her name suited her charming and sweet demeanour. She was the daughter of one of our colleagues, Mr. Durganand Swami who was staying one floor above ours at Gokuldham, a residential area of Goregaon (East), Mumbai. They were expecting some guests and Sweety had kept ready the video recording of her dance performance which she would show to the guests. At the age of nine or ten she had not only learnt classical dance but had also excelled in studies and other extra curricular activities. She was class mate of Dilraj (Bunny), my younger son and often came to our house for exchanging school notes etc with him.

As i was busy in some sort of chores that needed to be done on Sundays, i heard some crying and wailing out side. On rushing out i found that the sounds were coming from the floor above. As i ran up stairs i saw a ghastly sight. A small little delicate hand lay stuck between the two partially open grill doors of the lift. There was commotion inside one of the flats. I saw Sweety crying and screaming holding one of her arms. The little girl had lost her right hand which had got stuck in the two grill doors of the lift and was pulled apart by the scissor effect of the same. The lift had started moving as she was adjusting the doors of the lift and could not withdraw the hand in time as she was wearing bangles. Though the lift had stopped due to the pulling of the inner grill door but that was only after cutting off the child's hand. By this time other neighbors had also gathered there. We took out the hand from the grill doors and put it in a plastic bag filled with ice. I took out my car and rushed the girl along with her parents to the nearest clinic. Due to shock and trauma the girl's hand had not bled at all. The white bones and some veins and tissues which were also dry and pale were clearly visible at the end of her arm. The Doctor at the clinic administered the first aid and told us to rush to the hospital where such cases were treated.

That was the day when I drove my car at its fastest speed in Mumbai. Major Devinder Sharma, a colleague and our nieghbour, followed us in his own car. As I kept violating all the traffic rules while driving, drawing the attention of the traffic cops, he did the explaining of the situation to the cops and thus we reached the hospital. The doctor at the hospital examined the girl's condition and told that had the hand been chopped off by a knife or some sharp instrument, it would have been easier to join the same, as the ends of all the tissues, veins, muscles and other such components essential for joining the separated hand would have been available uniformly at both the ends. But in the prevailing condition the hand was separated by pulling and such components had been broken un- evenly. Still, he promised that he would try his best. Unfortunately after a long operation, lasting many hours, the hand could not be joined.

During this hair raising episode one thing was very pertinent to note. After the initial screaming and crying at her house, the little girl regained her wits and composure in no time. During the drive to the hospital she kept consoling her parents- who were sobbing silently- that she would learn writing with her left hand and that she would still continue her dancing and other activities. She even spoke to the hospital staff in a manner as if she had suffered only a minor injury.

PS-- April 2012 -- Recently i came in contact with Sweety's father. She has not only grown into a beautiful young girl but is also excelling in her academic life. Please read here to know about Sweety's progress.