An Unforgettable Republic Day
A year ago, on a lukewarm January noon, my wallet got picked at Sawai Madhopur railway station. It happened when I was travelling from Jaipur to Kota by train and had got down in Sawai Madhopur to buy the big, luscious guavas the city boasts of.
I didn’t realise that my wallet — a Levi Strauss accessory gifted by a friend recently — wasn’t in my pocket until I boarded the train again. And when I realised, it was too late. The train had started moving.
The Levi’s wallet wasn’t the only valuable I had lost — the damage was more serious. I had lost all my bank cards. All the travel cash. A cheque issued in my name that I was about to deposit. Many business cards that I’d earned after making good presentations. And the last, but not the least important, my Aadhar card.
The train moved out of the station as I got an understanding of what had happened. Now the only thing I could do was file a complaint at the next station: Kota.
I went to the railway police immediately after arriving there. They were sitting outside the station, basking in the winter sun, and above their heads flapped the gorgeous Tricolour — looking beautiful in light gusts of wind.
‘Haan Ji! What’s the matter?’ A senior policeman, sitting with others, spotted me and asked. I informed them about the small incident that had happened, and the big loss it brought upon me.
‘What an irresponsible youth you are, can’t take care of your belongings?’ The policeman’s response was loud. ‘What can we do when you yourself have acted this way? This is all your fault.’
I humbly told them about the many things I had lost.
‘How much is the total loss? 1 crore? 2 crores?’ They laughed.
I was silent. They paused and continued. This time a bit lenient.
‘Now that you’ve come here, take this FIR register and write a complaint (yourself) describing the incident. And write small — there’s not much paper left in the old notebook.’
One of them handed me a tattered register and another a Cello pen. I started writing and the policemen kept speaking.
‘We will accept your complaint. And look into the matter. Consider this great help! But expect no more from us…or that your wallet will be found.’
As he spoke, I saw one of my always-nagging relatives in the policeman. Then, I saw in him a fault-finding neighbour. Then an ex-boss who never accepted his responsibilities and lived in denial. A train of many such people, appeared before my eyes.
I saw our political parties in him, pointing fingers at each other. And behind them stood crores of Indians who did the same.
The flag’s flapping sound increased. It looked more glorious as the wind blew heavily.
I had finished writing. The complaint was submitted.
A junior policeman came to me and offered me a laddoo before I left. He then smiled and said, ‘Happy Republic Day.’
