An imposing, though
not an impressive personality, he was over six feet tall, dark, a head full of
black, oiled hair, a rather heavy gait, and a serious expression permanently
attached to his face.
He was a committed
worker for his rather large organization with pan-India presence, a stickler
for rules, and intelligent without being imaginative. Though he was well known
in the professional circles as a competent guy, his social circle was rather
limited.
It was unimaginable
for him to be addressed to as anything apart from Parida. If you asked around
about his first name, people would be shocked. Probably even HR records would
not be able to help you. Rumored had it that his wife and parents also called
him Parida
Parida
was Parida! No prefixes, no suffixes.
Parida was proceeding
to Balasore from Guwahati on leave. It was a long overdue visit to his in-laws.
His wife and children had already been there for more than a fortnight but
Parida had decided to join them later.
He was under the
impression that the organization might collapse without his strong hand guiding
it. Parida took his professional responsibility very seriously, like everything
else in his life.
Parida was a slave of
habit. If he took dinner at nine, it was at nine every day. If he read the
Times of India, he would not settle for anything else. If he had eggs, it was
always sunny side up. If he wore shoes, it was always Ambassador by Bata.
His life was a series
of predetermined activities. Deviations were a nuisance and not to be allowed.
The habits acquired over years were his friends and one does not abandon
friends! While all this was great, it made for a uni-dimensional existence
completely devoid of color.
But
something exciting was about to shake his existence, only he did not know it!
The train started its
journey from Guwahati at six in the evening, due to reach Howrah Station in
Calcutta at ten o’clock next morning. Parida would then take another train for
Balasore from Calcutta at two in the afternoon. Parida was at the station at
half past five (always safe to arrive well in time), was in the coach at 5:45
PM, and had his tea (from the thermos flask) at six.
He took his dinner
(packed by his cook) at eight. He enjoyed the simple meal of chapattis (a
standard deviation from rice, only acceptable during train journeys) and a
potato-egg curry, and afterwards neatly disposed of the packing. After half an
hour, as per his usual habit he drank a litre of water (water cannot be a part
of the meal, it had to be always, but always, taken after half an hour!) and was
ready for bed at nine.
At nine he changed
into a “lungi"(a sort of un-stitched wrap around the lower body) and
sleeveless vest from the trouser and shirt that he was wearing. He had always
slept in lungi and vest and just because he was in a train with so many other
passengers, he was not expected to deviate from his habit, was he?
He neatly folded his clothes.
These, along with his wallet and watch, went into his suitcase. He locked his
suitcase, double-checked it. Once satisfied, he made his bed and lay down at a
quarter past nine. He was asleep at half past.
Next morning, Parida
woke at five, as was his usual practice. He climbed down from his upper berth,
intending to use the toilet and brush his teeth. So early in the morning, there
was likely to be no rush, which was good. Most of the passengers were still
asleep.
He reached under the
lower berth for his suitcase but his hands did not meet anything. He was
irritated! Why did people have to shift other's luggage when there was so much
space?
It
was still dark and he did not want to disturb the other passengers by switching
on the lights.
So
he kept feeling for his luggage under the berth without success.
Finally after a few
minutes it became clear to him that his suitcase was not there. His irritation
grew further. So he started the search beneath the opposite berth. However,
without success once again!
It was finally clear
to him that the suitcase was not there. It was also clear that it was not
likely to be anywhere on the train because someone had pinched it!
This realization
dawned and Parida was in shock. Here he was, clad in a lungi and vest, and the
only other thing that he could lay claim to on the train was his pair of
Ambassador shoes! No change of dress, no money, no valuables that he could hock
and not even his ticket! His power to think has collapsed; his imagination
(though limited) had completely abandoned him.
He was at a complete
loss about what to do next. His mind blanked out, his voice had failed him. It
was early 1980's. No cell phones, no online transfers, no e-tickets, not even
easy to call on the phone. In any case he could not imagine who he could call
to help him in this situation. He did not even have an identity document or his
diary containing phone numbers!
Fortunately his
limited imagination helped him from falling prey to the wild thoughts of going
to jail for ticket less travel, of being put in a cell with a horde of
criminals, of being chased in the street by mischievous children and made fun
of on account of his appearance.
He did not know what
to do! Therefore, he climbed up to his upper berth, put his head in his hands,
and clammed up. Thus, he remained till the train reached Howrah station.
Once at Howrah, he
got down, crossed the platform to reach the wooden bench, and again took up the
posture that he had held in the train for the last few hours.
He remained like that
for the next hour or so. Trains arrived and departed. His mind blank, no seed
of a plan on what to do and he was not being noticed by anyone because lots of
people of the lower strata of society would be roaming around the station in a
similar garb in the station.
The only difference
was the solid, shining Ambassador Shoes and this caught the attention of
Sanjay. Ordinarily, Sanjay would not have cast a second glance at Parida, but
for the Ambassador shoes.
Something seemed
familiar about the man! He could not see the face, but a closer look told him
this was indeed Parida. For the life of him, he could not understand what
Parida was doing in this state at Howrah Station.
“Parida??”
he inquired tentatively.
Parida
looked up. It was Parida!
Though Parida could
not recognize Sanjay, at that moment Sanjay appeared to him to be God's most
precious gift. It was true that Parida was very well known in the organization
though he was not very well acquainted with people outside his immediate
professional circle.
Now, there was hope!
It was apparent that this person was someone from the Calcutta office. No
matter! There was hope now!
The anguish of the
past few hours were tumbling out in a torrent of words. Parida was crying. But
Sanjay quickly got the gist of what happened. He put his hand on Parida’s
shoulder to calm him.
When Parida had
exhausted the words, Sanjay took him outside, bought him a set of clothes and
breakfast. He offered to buy tickets for his onward journey and some money to
see him through.
But Parida had been
too shaken by the turn of events. Undertaking a journey on an unreserved ticket
in a general compartment was not a good option now. He had recovered
sufficiently to thank Sanjay and asked him to lend him a small sum, enough to
take him to Tollygunge, where he had relatives. Once there, he would inform his
in-laws about the change in plans and then undertake the second part of the
journey in a more organized manner.
So, Sanjay gave him
some money, put him on a tram (trams are still plying in Calcutta, by the
way!), bade him all the best and was off.
Parida was now more
composed. Closing his eyes, thanked the Almighty for looking over him during
his distress. He even started enjoying the ride across the river Hooghly on the
Howrah Bridge. He was now relaxed enough to look around and notice his co-passengers
and enjoy the rhythmic clack-clack of the tram wheels.
Suddenly, his eyes
fell on a person sitting a few rows ahead. There was nothing familiar about the
man, but the suitcase beside him was another matter. It looked exactly like his
lost suitcase.
He looked carefully.
Yes, even the small tear in the corner of the top cover was there. Just to be
sure, he got up from his seat and moved forward to take a closer look. As he
started examining the suitcase, the man sitting there suddenly got up and
pushing Parida violently to one side, ran to the door. Before anyone could
react, he jumped off the tram!
For a moment, Parida
was at a loss. However, he soon realized that his lost suitcase had been
retrieved. What were the chances of this happening?
One in a million??????
Or worse????
To have a suitcase
stolen from a train, to have the thief travelling in the same tram as the owner
after a few hours, and the owner recognizing it in a reasonably crowded tram
and recover it was certainly not an everyday occurrence!
Just
to be sure, he brought out the key tied to a string around his neck and tried
to open the lock.
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