(mis)adventures Of A Bachelor Boy - Part 2 (Tale with a twist)

It was 9:30 p.m. and the bus service was running late by nearly 15 minutes. Route no. 29B from downtown Periyar Nagar to Saidapet was overcrowded. I preferred to take such buses, for it saved me the day?s ticket as most conductors were lethargic and didn?t bother to move through the crowd to collect the fare.My clothes were pressed; shoes polished and perfume enough to stifle the stink arising from an overflowing garbage bin near the stop. The bus arrived as usual, carrying a sea of humanity. I managed to squeeze myself through the rear entrance. The conductor, surprisingly, was not in his seat. He stood at the front entrance, surrounded by a mass of hands holding coins of various denominations.The heat was oppressive, the crowd overwhelming. Yet I managed to safely perch myself on the last step and hold on to the railing with reasonable sense of confidence of seeing through this journey, alive. To my right stood an elderly gentleman, who seemed to be sweating profusely. Dressed in white shirt and veshtti, he clung onto a handbag, which almost seemed like second skin. The man (his name I will never know) began talking at lengths about how the world had gone bad and why it was no longer safe to lead a peaceful life as a retired civil servant. He referred to the spate of daylight murders in apartments in the city. Some passengers shook their heads sympathetically and spoke of how personally they had become victims to less insidious criminals ? pickpockets and cheats.As the bus veered through the notoriously pot-holed thoroughfares of the city, the conversation quickly turned to petty thieves and the slick methods employed by them. The elderly gentleman spoke disparagingly of pickpockets and their vile ways of robbing old pensioners of their hard-earned money. To this another youngster narrated how a butter-fingered thief had once deftly cut open his nylon bag and carried away its contents. He was going back home with Rs. 20,000/- from the bank. Luckily the money was in his shirt?s inner pocket, and the culprit merely walked away with worthless bills and an old notebook. Saying thus, he proceeded to thank half-a-dozen gods for saving his cash. I observed the elderly gentleman?s carry bag. One could tell it contained cash, lots of them. I told him to keep a wary eye on strangers, especially smooth-talking tricksters, who diverted the victim?s attention while their accomplices snatched and fled with their valuables. This remark started another round of discussion. By then one could hear a baby cry, and the conductor yell at an unruly youngster who was seated in a place reserved for women. I told the gentleman I worked in a private bank and extended a visiting card to him. He was quickly impressed, evident from a series of questions put forth on provident funds and declining interest rates on savings accounts. I answered the best I could. He told me about his daughter?s forthcoming marriage and how he was taking a loan towards meeting this expense. I wished him well and spoke about the need to take care of his cash, long enough for the conductor to finally collect tickets from us. I bought his ticket, which seemed to please him further.A few stops later, the rush eased a bit. As the bus neared the Pondy Bazaar stop, the old man affectionately patted me on my shoulder. As he was about to get down, he would have stumbled down the stairs, if I had caught hold of him. He blessed me and left the bus.I was to alight at the next stop. I was extremely happy. My day?s wages were earned. I hurriedly stuffed several visiting cards and the wade of notes in my pocket.So finally the SSLC education I had received did hold me in good stead. I was in and out of jail several times where I had mastered the art of using tiny blades to slash purses. I hated to do this to an old man. But then, even pickpockets like me got to earn a living, right?