So guess who got robbed? If you’re saying me, you’re right! Hey, it had to happen sometime, right? At least it was just a phone. A phone that sells here for 6,000 rupees ($120).
I was charging my Nokia Nuron at one of the train station’s phone charging points. I was loosely keeping an eye on my phone, but was also distracted by my first mosquitoes in a week and the havoc they were wreaking on my ankles. Instead of sitting by phone I was standing and scratching like mad.
I suddenly noticed a man disconnecting my phone from the charger. “Hey!” I said. He pointed innocently to his own phone. He just wanted to use the charger! I was reluctant, since I was mad about him not asking before attempting to use the charger, but I’m often rude to Indian men who are intrusive and then feel guilty about it. And when I lost my charger and couldn’t replace it for a week, I’d wished I could borrow someone else’s for just a few minutes. So it seemed a harmless thing to let him use it for a bit. “Two minutes,” I said, leaving my phone on the shelf next to the charger.
After two minutes I disconnected his phone to re-charge my own, and a few minutes later my train arrived. Even though I wanted to get on it, I thought, what the heck, be nice, and told the phone’s owner (a different man all of a sudden , which should have struck me as strange but didn’t), “You can have another two minutes.” I turned around to look at the train and was still standing in front of my phone. After about two minutes I turned, intending to put my phone and charger away.
The phone was gone. I instantly yelled at the man borrowing my charger, “Where’s my phone? What did you do with it!?!?” Someone had to reach across him to take it. I fell to my knees to rip through my small backpack and see if I’d already put it away, but even then I knew I hadn’t. I realized I’d always been uneasy with the men, but had let the desire to be “nice” override my instincts.
The man pretended innocence. I yelled at him and we drew a BIG crowd. I wasn’t thinking clearly because I was so mad that I had abetted them in their crime against me. I couldn’t believe their nerve. I kept yelling, “You borrowed my charger, and that’s how you stole my phone! I can’t believe I trusted you! I can’t believe I tried to be NICE and that’s how you stole my phone!”
He, of course, denied all. “Give me back my phone! Just give it back!” I made for the man’s pockets and he threw up his hands and yelled, “Yes, search me, search me!” but of course they were empty because he wasn’t the one who took the phone. While I had my back turned and trusted that he would guard that end, he no doubt let one of his friends take the phone.
Eventually people pressed in to ask me what had happened, and as I tried to explain, the man walked away. I let him go because I had already written off the phone as lost. But soon after a policeman walked up. I went to the office that the he directed me to, but by then I had really given up. The thief was gone, my train was leaving in 15 minutes, and the cops were just moving very slowly, probably because of the language barrier. They wanted me to lodge a complaint, but they didn’t understand my urgency about getting on the train. They seemed to think I should miss my train to lodge the complaint, while I didn’t see the point. “Do you have a number where we can reach you?” they asked. “No, because they stole my phone!” I said, and burst into tears.
I went back to the scene of the crime, where an older woman was tsk-tsk-ing away. Her manner said something like, I knew they were up to no good, or you can’t trust these rascals, or I saw them do it! I couldn’t tell. She looked at me sympathetically.
I was still angry on the train. I just couldn’t forgive myself for basically giving the thieves the phone. It tore me up that somewhere they were probably laughing at the show and the hoopla I threw, all for naught. Some cops followed me onto the train, where they said I should have lodged a complaint at the station because they have no jurisdiction on the train. I explained that I saw no point in lodging a complaint. I would have if my departure wasn’t imminent, but the thieves had timed the theft well.
I hate when you look back and see what you should’ve done. I should have snagged the man’s phone and called my own to see if I could hear it ringing. I should have taken his picture and said, I’m sending this to the cops unless I get my phone back. If he still pretended innocence, I should have at least held onto him until the cops arrived so that he could answer to them about my accusation. But I hadn’t expected the police to show up at all. I forgot there’s a force at every train station.
Instead I pitched a fit. A big one. A pointless, worthless, futile one. It didn’t even make me feel better.
It sucks to have this happen just one week before I leave. I don’t want to be bitter my final days here.
I was charging my Nokia Nuron at one of the train station’s phone charging points. I was loosely keeping an eye on my phone, but was also distracted by my first mosquitoes in a week and the havoc they were wreaking on my ankles. Instead of sitting by phone I was standing and scratching like mad.
I suddenly noticed a man disconnecting my phone from the charger. “Hey!” I said. He pointed innocently to his own phone. He just wanted to use the charger! I was reluctant, since I was mad about him not asking before attempting to use the charger, but I’m often rude to Indian men who are intrusive and then feel guilty about it. And when I lost my charger and couldn’t replace it for a week, I’d wished I could borrow someone else’s for just a few minutes. So it seemed a harmless thing to let him use it for a bit. “Two minutes,” I said, leaving my phone on the shelf next to the charger.
After two minutes I disconnected his phone to re-charge my own, and a few minutes later my train arrived. Even though I wanted to get on it, I thought, what the heck, be nice, and told the phone’s owner (a different man all of a sudden , which should have struck me as strange but didn’t), “You can have another two minutes.” I turned around to look at the train and was still standing in front of my phone. After about two minutes I turned, intending to put my phone and charger away.
The phone was gone. I instantly yelled at the man borrowing my charger, “Where’s my phone? What did you do with it!?!?” Someone had to reach across him to take it. I fell to my knees to rip through my small backpack and see if I’d already put it away, but even then I knew I hadn’t. I realized I’d always been uneasy with the men, but had let the desire to be “nice” override my instincts.
The man pretended innocence. I yelled at him and we drew a BIG crowd. I wasn’t thinking clearly because I was so mad that I had abetted them in their crime against me. I couldn’t believe their nerve. I kept yelling, “You borrowed my charger, and that’s how you stole my phone! I can’t believe I trusted you! I can’t believe I tried to be NICE and that’s how you stole my phone!”
He, of course, denied all. “Give me back my phone! Just give it back!” I made for the man’s pockets and he threw up his hands and yelled, “Yes, search me, search me!” but of course they were empty because he wasn’t the one who took the phone. While I had my back turned and trusted that he would guard that end, he no doubt let one of his friends take the phone.
Eventually people pressed in to ask me what had happened, and as I tried to explain, the man walked away. I let him go because I had already written off the phone as lost. But soon after a policeman walked up. I went to the office that the he directed me to, but by then I had really given up. The thief was gone, my train was leaving in 15 minutes, and the cops were just moving very slowly, probably because of the language barrier. They wanted me to lodge a complaint, but they didn’t understand my urgency about getting on the train. They seemed to think I should miss my train to lodge the complaint, while I didn’t see the point. “Do you have a number where we can reach you?” they asked. “No, because they stole my phone!” I said, and burst into tears.
I went back to the scene of the crime, where an older woman was tsk-tsk-ing away. Her manner said something like, I knew they were up to no good, or you can’t trust these rascals, or I saw them do it! I couldn’t tell. She looked at me sympathetically.
I was still angry on the train. I just couldn’t forgive myself for basically giving the thieves the phone. It tore me up that somewhere they were probably laughing at the show and the hoopla I threw, all for naught. Some cops followed me onto the train, where they said I should have lodged a complaint at the station because they have no jurisdiction on the train. I explained that I saw no point in lodging a complaint. I would have if my departure wasn’t imminent, but the thieves had timed the theft well.
I hate when you look back and see what you should’ve done. I should have snagged the man’s phone and called my own to see if I could hear it ringing. I should have taken his picture and said, I’m sending this to the cops unless I get my phone back. If he still pretended innocence, I should have at least held onto him until the cops arrived so that he could answer to them about my accusation. But I hadn’t expected the police to show up at all. I forgot there’s a force at every train station.
Instead I pitched a fit. A big one. A pointless, worthless, futile one. It didn’t even make me feel better.
It sucks to have this happen just one week before I leave. I don’t want to be bitter my final days here.
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