I scanned my purse to every nook and cranny with as much patience as I can. I could not help but shed a tear when I grasped that my phone was gone. I had lost it. My throat went dry thinking of it as it was the most expensive phone I had until that date.
It was raining heavily but it was business as usual. Done with the day's work, I left the office along with my friend. We boarded our regular CSMT - Kalyan fast train. It was jam-packed in the compartment. With a lot of women complimenting bulgy bags pulled on their stomachs, we hardly had any space to stand. So we adjusted ourselves by the door and meanwhile were planning the best way to unwind our tiredness once we reach our respective homes. I had very little strength in my limbs and was hoping for Thane to come at once so I can get down.
On the next station, as another horde of ladies climbed in the train, I and my friend were pushed inside the compartment. Among this new group was a lady— bony and dusky, who came and stood beside us. She seemed friendly as it did not take her more than a minute to join me and my friend in our conversation.
Fifteen more minutes of standing in the congestion led me to have crippled feet. But when I learned that my station is approaching, I gathered relief and strength enough to push the crowd and get myself ahead. My friend followed me from behind. Just around a minute before our train reaches the platform, my phone started ringing. I usually avoid taking calls at such times, but that day I picked up the call. After a quick talk, I put my phone in a pouch kept in my purse's front pocket, and I and my friend got down in haste.
While climbing the bridge I realized that the front chain of my purse was open. My heart skipped a beat when I found that the mobile pouch inside it had vanished. Standing in the middle of the stairs, I could not think of anything else. My friend suggested that we park ourselves at the edge of the bridge and carefully examine my bag. 'It will be somewhere inside, check again,’ she comforted me with hope.
I scanned my purse to every nook and cranny with as much patience as I can. I could not help but shed a tear when I grasped that my phone was gone. I had lost it. My throat went dry thinking of it as it was the most expensive phone I had until that date.
Dwelling on that pain, I returned home and so did my friend, failing to cheer me up.
I reached home. Charged with anger, confusion, and a whole lot of emotional mess, I barked the happened episode to my parents. I was uncertain of how I lost my phone as I have always handled my things responsibly. Before my parents could say any consoling words, I heard my friend coming right up to me in a hurry. ‘Priyanka ... your phone is found,’ she exclaimed with her eyes lit up. I felt a strong gush of happiness within me; I could not believe what I heard.
My friend was on an ongoing call with a lady who claimed to have found my phone. ‘Talk to her,’ she forced her phone in my palm. I spoke to that lady and when she was convinced enough that I was the owner of the lost phone; she gave me her address and asked me to collect my phone. It was a coincidence that the lady called my friend amongst all the contacts on the dialed list. Anyway, I ignored it, happy to get my phone back. The lady happened to stay nearby so I and my friend reached her place in a short time.
To our surprise, the lady was none other than the one who met us and chatted with us on the train. We stared at her in another pang of surprise, when she denied meeting us or even remembering us for that matter.
The lady informed us that she found my pouch fallen on platform number two. That was confusing to grasp as I and my friend got down on platform number five before taking the bridge. Another misguiding fact was in such heavy rains when it was wet everywhere, let alone the foot of my salwar and three fourth of my sleeves along with my purse, the pouch was completely dry.
A suspicion raised in my mind when I checked inside my pouch. Before I had lost it, it had inside— my mobile, of course, my house keys, and a fifty rupee note. And later, while the rest items were intact, the fifty rupee note was missing.
Anyway, we thanked the lady and left her place. On my way home, my mind was fast-filling with questions.
How can the lady forget us when she seemed so cheerful talking to us on the train? How the lady found the pouch on platform number two? How I didn’t notice her when she got down at Thane with me? Has the lady robbed my pouch? And if she has, why did she return it? Where has the fifty rupee note gone?
‘Be grateful that you found your phone.’ said my friend as she spotted my curious face. I agreed to her and put a full stop to my wandering mind. After all, how often does one get his / her phone back once it is lost?
Slice Buddy - Priyanka Bapat
Written by Pooja Kakde.
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