Being Robbed, Being Found

My heart started racing the second I saw my backpack’s zip open, and even though I frantically looked through all the pockets, deep inside I knew that my wallet had been stolen. In that moment yesterday, with hundreds of people teeming all around me at the Delhi Metro station, I felt alone... very alone. My personal space violated. My sense of freedom associated with money, gone.

I went to the nearest guard/police and narrated my story, but I was handed off from one official to another; with a reprimand, “Aap ko careful rehna chahiye tha madam.” (You should have been careful Madam)

By then my mind had started imagining the thief’s identity: a young man, with swift, darting eyes, a sly smile and a self-congratulatory attitude. I was sinking in a swamp of self-pity, asking myself, “What did I ever do to harm this person, why has he placed me in this mess?”

I eventually found my way to the Police Control Room dazzling with banks of CCTV screens. For a couple of seconds relief permeated through me, hoping that they would look at the CCTV footage, find the thief and my ordeal would be over. Ah! But reality is usually different! I was told to go to another Police Station to file a FIR, start an investigation and only then would the police start the process of checking the footage. I sank into a broken chair while they told me, “Madam bhool jao, kaun dhoondega chor ko? Aap aage ke liye khyaal rakho ab.” (Madam, forget it, who is going to look for the thief? Just be careful in the future now.)

I walked back into the crowds with tears stinging my eyes, uncertain of what to do next, trying to reach Ashim in USA. The weight of all the perceived and real frustrations of living and working in India plummeting on me like a row of dominoes set into motion. Talking to Ashim brought some calm, but anxiety was once again paramount while recollecting the specific credit and debit cards, Indian and US ids in the wallet. While Gautam and Ashim took over the chore of cancelling all the cards, ordering replacements, placing fraud alerts on my accounts; I looked around once again noticing the people oblivious to my tears.

I finally sat in the Metro train to head over to Gurgaon. Something about closing my eyes in the moving train allowed me to separate myself from my journey. I realized that my few hours sans the security of my cards and cash, had rendered me a small glimpse into the vulnerability millions of penniless people feel while facing life every day. My hurt at the indifference around me brought to the forefront the many instances, when I might have ignored offering comfort to another being. My families rallying around me guided me towards gratitude for all that I have.

And then… I was able to breathe out my self-pity and my anger; take in a few composed breaths and send my love to the ‘swift and sly person’ who stole my wallet and hoped that the money does him good.