A thief’s confession – Vivek Nath Mishra, Uttar Pradesh

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I was at work, and in front of my seat there was a long queue, just like the approach and retreat of the sea waves people were jostling each other to sway back and forth.

Now and then somebody from the queue will run out of patience and shout at me to hasten my work, however I didn’t have to retort back as few customers would do that for me. Somehow, I had been enduring the oppressive Monday morning work before a man came out of nowhere, dragged a chair next to me and sat authoritativly. I wasn’t aware of him, too engrossed in my work, before he patted me on the back and grabbed my attention. “Good morning sir” he greeted, as to ridicule me for it wasn’t a good morning. He was impeccably dressed. His face was huge, like a jackfruit and, hairs of his moustache were pointing out. He had a day’s stubble. He had long thinning hairs cascading to his neck, a typical hairstyle straight from the 90’s bollywood.

He smiled at me, came closer and whispered into my ears, “you don’t know me but I know you sir”.

I looked at him nonchalantly, as I was not the least interested in making acquaintances. Who knows if he comes out to be a nagging customer puzzled by the complexities of GST. I continued with my work, my eyes glued to that fifteen inch screen.

Then, he came near and whispered again, “I’m here to make a confession sir, but the revelations must not astonish you to the extent that you start shouting, as I’m a pickpocket who has gone through a heart transformation to become a dignified and gentle man”.

I looked at him surprisingly, the way that tedious Monday morning at work unfolded itself evoked an interest in me. Still I tried to suppress my excitement to know more, as I feared that he might be a borrower, begging for some financial assistance with regard to his endevours in going through the moral transformation. But he didn’t give up and continued,  “Sir, I don’t like boasting or blowing my own trumpet, but I’d been an expert in this profession. I earned envy of many competitors due to my extraordinary agility of slipping hands into others’ pockets and disappearing in the crowd in no time.

But lately, I got married and my wife, when came to know about my profession, detested the idea and procured me to quit this profession. But still, I miss slipping hands into the pockets of rich people. My profession sported such adventures that recollecting the memories of those days still fascinates me when I roamed without any destination and just waited for the right time to had my hands upon some fat pockets.”

But, Sir my wife is a savage creature, although I’m talking to you here about my past musings, but when my mind wanders back to my wife I feel very scared and my whole existence as a husband feels vulnerable. Very honestly speaking sir, I liked you very much and appreciated your ingenuity, when I was planning to pick your pocket and kept a close watch on you. I usually keep a close watch on my victims for few days. I stole your cellphone. Few days back I told my wife about how I got this cellphone that  I gifted her on our first marriage anniversary. She became furious, persisted daily and threatened me that if I don’t return your cellphone, she would lodge a police complaint against me. I know you must be thinking how a lady can be so cruel.

But today I’ve come here for the sole purpose of returning your Nokia 3310 phone back to you.

I was stunned to hear all that when he thrust a Nokia 3310 set into my hands and hugged me before leaving.

After few hours when I started examining my pocket for the handkerchief only then I realised my new Apple iPhone was already stolen and there was Nokia 3310 in front of me, mocking the bewildered look on my face.

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