My purse wasn’t stolen after all. After 30 harrowing hours of running around, frantic phone calls and crusading online, a gentleman called up from Bangalore to say that my purse was in his possession. He was apologizing profusely on behalf of his 70 year old father, who had walked off with my purse in a zealous fit. I didn’t have the heart to haul him up for the trauma, the money spent on new locks and a new mobile. He came across as earnest. Sounding from a humble background he could have easily walked off with the cash and mobile and thrown my purse in a nearby dump yard. He didn’t.
I am relieved that my handbag didn’t fall in wrong hands. The thought that my most personal belongings, details and contacts could be in a slimeball’s possession was far from edifying.
On a lighter side my bag is a celebrity now. But I do have to sort out a few things with her, when she finally gets back. Walking away with a random stranger is simply unacceptable.
The Times of India covered her mistress’s travails in its city section. And her mistress just got a new name- Bagwati. Doesn’t she love it!
Bagwati is just like the average woman next door. She lives for her family, survives on love and worries about the trivialiest thing. But God forbid, if someone messes with her, she raises hell; the policeman who leered at her and refused to take her seriously, the CISF personnel at the Metro station who insisted that she didn’t walk in with a bag in the first place. Her integrity was doubted and she fought back like a wounded tigress. She tweeted about her travails and blogged about her disenchantment with the system that treats the victim like an accused. The response she got was overwhelming. An ordinary citizen’s fight for her dignity struck a chord somewhere.
Now that my story might have a happy ending, does it diminish the ugly side of Gurgaon? No it doesn’t.