{"id":4166,"date":"2023-12-25T09:33:11","date_gmt":"2023-12-25T09:33:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/?page_id=4166"},"modified":"2024-01-02T09:40:38","modified_gmt":"2024-01-02T09:40:38","slug":"a-short-story-the-pick-pocket","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/a-short-story-the-pick-pocket\/","title":{"rendered":"A Short story THE PICK POCKET"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t

THE PICK-POCKET<\/h3>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

by Timeri N. Murari<\/strong>.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
A collection of short stories published by Scholastic India<\/h5>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Kant, who named himself after the last syllable of his favourite movie star\u2019s name as he did not possess a family name or an ancestral place, and who had escaped from his master, arrived early in the morning by the Pandian Express at Chennai Central Station.\u00a0 He had never been in Chennai before, but he had heard it was a city with many prospects for a boy like him who had honed his talents well.\u00a0<\/p>

He drifted along with the crowd towards the exit. It was always a good time to pick a pocket, his master, Selvam, a minor history-sheeter with many talents, had taught him. Selvam was also a minor magician and while he distracted his audience, Kant would wander among them, expertly relieving the men of their wallets. Selvam always took all the money and only gave Kant a cuff on his head for not extracting more. It was after one of these performances, that Kant decided to run away and try his luck elsewhere.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

\u00a0<\/p>

Although he was nearly fourteen years old, Kant could not read or write, as he had never been to school. But he was a better magician than Selvam. The previous evening, in Madurai station, he had earned the princely sum of five rupees through his magician\u2019s talents. Watching him was an old couple, and Kant was aware that the man had remained intently watching the other tricks before moving on with his wife.\u00a0<\/p>

When he was in a crowd, it was his habit to watch young children with their parents, and he did this now, making his way towards the exit.\u00a0 He stared with longing, imagining he was that boy who held onto his mother\u2019s hand or that boy walking beside his father.\u00a0 How he envied those children. He could have been one of them, walking with his mother and father, holding their hands, feeling the warmth of their love. He used to pray each night that he would find them, and them him. But as years passed and he had stopped those prayers.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He had work to do if he was to survive alone in this huge city. A few steps ahead walked the old couple. He had noticed them again as they\u2019d cautiously clambered down from the IInd class a\/c compartment. The man had tenderly helped his wife down, holding her hand and now wheeled their trolley case behind him. Kant had noted the sagging bulge in the left hand pocket of the man\u2019s crumpled white kurta; his wife wore a cotton saree, also crumpled from sleeping in it.<\/p>

Kant quickened his pace. The couple stopped suddenly; people collided with them.\u00a0 As Kant passed the old man, he dipped his hand swiftly into the kurta pocket and, with two supple fingers strong as pliers, easily removed the wallet. In almost the same easy motion, he slipped it under his ragged shirt and tucked into the waistband of his trousers.<\/p>

As he started to quicken his step, the old man called out. \u2018Thambi.\u2019<\/p>

Kant\u2019s heart raced, and he was ready to run but the man\u2019s voice had not been angry. He had to remain calm. He turned, trying a smile.<\/p>

\u2018Here,\u2019 the old man said, holding out an apple. \u2018We would like you to have this.\u2019<\/p>

Kant took it in surprise. He never expected kindness from people.<\/p>

The old woman smiled too. \u2018We thought you looked hungry. \u2019 She turned to her husband. \u201cHe does look like Prakash, doesn\u2019t he?\u2019<\/p>

\u2018Yes, very much like him.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0Kant hurried past them, and didn\u2019t look back. He was tensed and ready to run should the old man have noticed the theft and called out.\u00a0 Strangely, instead of feeling gratitude Kant felt angry. People shouldn\u2019t surprise him with acts of kindness; there should be a law against that. He wasn\u2019t about to return the wallet just because they gave him an apple.\u00a0 There was a rubbish bin by a pillar and quite deliberately Kant dropped the apple into it, getting rid of any guilt that might have contaminated him.\u00a0<\/p>

He was eager to see what he had stolen. He saw a gap among the shops, slid into it and pulled out his prize. He opened the wallet slowly, peeked in, and sighed with pleasure. There were four one hundred rupee notes, and three ten rupee notes. Stuffed in a separate compartment was a single sheet of paper, about the size of the one hundred rupee note. He didn\u2019t look at it. He stuffed the cash in his pocket and dropped the wallet through the railings into the railway compound behind the shops. There, he said to himself, that\u2019s what I think of them and their apple.\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a0First things first, he was starving. He had not eaten since the day before. Across the busy road were three or four eateries. He dodged the continuous traffic, and went into the first eatery and grandly ordered a thali.<\/p>

\u2018Where\u2019s your money?\u2019 the man at the counter demanded. Kant took out a one hundred rupee note and waved it under his nose. Kant ate greedily, and walked out. Further down that footpath was a clothes shop and Kant who loved to look stylish and neat, bought a yellow shirt and blue jeans. He changed into them, leaving his ragged old clothes for the shop keeper to get rid of.<\/p>

Quite naturally, when this initial exploration was over, he gravitated back towards Central station. It would not only be his base until he found another one, but also a source of money.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As he entered the station, he stopped suddenly. The old couple was sitting on a bench, looking very sad and beside them was the police constable. A constable had a note book in his hand and was writing down what they told him.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Kant started to turn away when he heard the woman call out to him. \u2018Thambi, did you like our apple?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Reluctantly, dragging his feet, avoiding the constable\u2019s glance, he returned. \u2018Yes,\u2019 he lied. \u2018What has happened?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The old man sighed. \u2018I have mislaid my wallet.\u2019 He turned back to the constable. \u2018It\u2019s not the money; there were only a few hundred rupees. But there was a cheque in it and it\u2019s our whole life\u2019s savings. I sold my ancestral property in Madurai. The buyer gave the cheque for the property and went back to America. We have to pay for our new flat by tomorrow, our final home. Otherwise, we\u2019ll be evicted.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018It is a nuisance,\u2019 the old woman said, not with any anger. Nor did she show any anger towards her husband.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Kant, who survived without any guilty conscience, now wished he had not heard this tale. He quietly drifted away and found himself moving towards the wall of the compound, to where he\u2019d dropped that wallet. He spotted it lying in the dirt. He walked over, looked around\u2014no one was watching\u2014and scooped it up swiftly. Reluctantly, he took the remaining three hundred and twenty rupees from his pocket, and slipped the notes back into the wallet. He hoped the old man wouldn\u2019t object to him having some food and new clothes. He tucked the wallet into his waist band under his shirt and strolled back to the station.<\/p>

The woman\u2019s bag was by her feet. He would drop the wallet in it. Kant took out his change and dropped the coins so they rolled towards the bag. As he bent over to gather the coins, he brushed past the old man.\u00a0 Kant reached under his shirt. The wallet was gone. He straightened, bewildered. Had it fallen out?\u00a0 It had been there a moment before when he had bent down. As he turned to see if he had dropped it, the constable grabbed him by the neck.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Caught you, you thief.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Thief,\u201d Kant protested indignantly. \u2018I\u2019ve not stolen anything You can search me, if you want.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The constable did, very roughly, and didn\u2019t find the wallet. The old man rummaged in the bag and brought out an apple and held it out to Kant. As Kant took it, the old man delved back into the bag and pulled out the wallet. His face was level with Kant\u2019s, and he winked into Kant\u2019s puzzled eyes.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The old man held up the wallet, surprise on his face. He smiled apologetically. \u2018The problem with old age is one forgets where one has placed things. I must have put it in my wife\u2019s bag. I am so sorry to have caused you all such trouble.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Please check\u2014is there anything missing?\u2019 the constable asked, still holding Kant.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Very slowly, the old man counted the money.<\/p>

Kant wriggled. Now, he was in trouble; he was stupid to have returned. But he was curious. How did the wallet end up in the bag and why had the old man lied?<\/p>

\u2018Nothing is missing,\u2019 the old man said.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018And the cheque?\u2019 the constable asked.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018It\u2019s here too.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Reluctantly the constable released Kant, and left.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Thank you for returning my wallet,\u2019 the old man said<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018You knew I\u2019d stolen it?\u2019 Kant said.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Oh yes, you were the only one who could have. I knew you\u2019d come back to the station after you\u2019d spent some money. When I saw you go away and return again I knew you had my wallet and that you have a good heart.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018But how did it get in the bag?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018I picked it from your trouser band. I saw you performing in Madurai station,\u2019 the old man said, and his wife nodded smiling. \u2018You\u2019re not a bad magician. I could teach you be a great magician and not live the life of a pick-pocket.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018He looks just like Prakash when he\u2019s puzzled,\u2019 the wife commented.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Teach me?\u2019 Kant asked warily. \u2018Who are you to teach me?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018I was one of the greatest magicians of all when I was young,\u2019 the old man said with quiet pride. \u2018I was known as Mandrake the Magician\u2014it was a name I took from a comic book. I travelled all over the world, performing my magic.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Who\u2019s this Prakash you keep talking about?\u2019 Kant asked.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The old woman said. \u2018He\u2019s a scientist and lives in America. We have not seen him for many years now. He hated magic.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018It\u2019s only cheap illusion, he told me,\u2019 the old man said. \u2018But everything in life is illusion.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 They gathered their bags and moved towards the auto rickshaw stand. Kant remained watching them, wondering what he should do.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The old man turned. \u2018Well, are you coming with us so I can teach you to be a great magician? Or will you stay here and be a bad pick-pocket?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Warily, Kant said. \u2018You\u2019re not going to treat me like a servant?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Of course not,\u2019 the old woman said. \u2018You look too much like Prakash, our son.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a0<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

THE PICK-POCKET by Timeri N. Murari. A collection of short stories published by Scholastic India Kant, who named himself after the last syllable of his favourite movie star\u2019s name as […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-4166","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4166","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4166"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4166\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4889,"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4166\/revisions\/4889"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/websprintersdemo.in\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4166"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}