The canvas of purloining is vast. It may be a low-key affair when the charwoman, part time maid, kaamwali quietly removes pieces of your cutlery; you will be left wondering whether you left them carelessly, says Ruchira. A Different Truths exclusive.
It is an uphill task for sure. Take my word for it. It would require amazing presence of mind, levelheadedness, a vast fund of patience and calculated move to able to appropriate other people’s belongings and personal effects without the individual getting even the tiniest inkling.
In our daily lives, while purloining occurs on a mega scale, few incidents ever come to light. Indeed such is the efficiency of the doers! The canvas of purloining is vast. It may be a low-key affair when the charwoman, part time maid, kaamwali (call them what you will) quietly removes pieces of your cutlery; you will be left wondering whether you left them carelessly. On another occasion it may be tiny portions of powdered spices –the ubiquitous haldi-mirchi-jira-dhania – which disappear via miniscule paper parcels. Since you have ample quantities in your masala box, you are highly unlikely to detect the vanishing act.
Talking of purloining, I recall how many moons ago, in our family home in Kolkata, the teenaged female cook was caught with pieces of fried fish (maach bhaja), which she had efficiently concealed in the cavernous interiors of her dress. She could have conveniently sneaked out, had it not been the characteristic odour of mustard oil (sine qua non for fish dishes) that gave her away. My grandmother often recounted tales of how, after numerous wedding ceremonies hosted in our family home, many country clods would quietly slip out with extra, unused handis (earthen pots) of rosogolla / mishti doi, et al as if they were part of their baggage, without bothering to inform the hostesses. They probably thought the latter would refuse to hand out the delicacies to them. Who knows?
Purloining stationery of fellow students is rampant in schools. Or at least it was when we siblings were in school. Pencils, sharpeners, erasers – scented or otherwise – disappeared by the dozen, by the end of each academic year. In the fifth grade when we discarded pencils for ink pens, my father bought me a Wing Sung which was costly item those days. Much to my chagrin, it disappeared from my pencil box one fine day. Did pens have wings? In wondered. For the remainder of school life, such surreptitious acts continued unabated. Many more Wing Sungs went missing as did odd handkerchiefs and yes umbrellas, annually during monsoon. My woes did not end even after I entered college and took up residence in the hostel. One year, owing to paucity of space, each double-seeded room got an extra occupant. It was sheer misfortune that I had to share my cupboard with a fellow boarder who, I later realised, was a past master in the art! Since there was just a single key to the cupboard, we hung it on a peg on the wall for easy accessibility. This made the road exceedingly smooth for her. During her off periods (our subjects were different) she would get hold of my stuff and stow them away in her boxes or bags. Thanks to her, I lost a gorgeous golden-black caftan (my parents’ birthday gift) a high-neck top and substantial amount of cash. It sounds downright unfair to blame her since she was not caught red-handed. But once she finally moved out, the “missing” stopped! One can easily put two and two together …ahem!
Decades later, I encountered other stunning instances of “efficient” purloining. One incident dates back to my sibling’s wedding. The bride’s family members had mustered strong in our house for a customary get-together. Our sitting room had shelves to hold books and music cassettes. It still beats me how an elderly woman relative of the bride managed to remove several oft-heard cassettes (Tagore songs and S.D Burman’s country music) in full public view. Considering the room waschock-a-bloc with guests, it is astonishing how nobody noticed her during the act. Or maybe they deliberately looked the other way. Later, of course, we were told that she was a kleptomaniac. It could be an attempt to garner sympathy. Heaven help her!
They say, “Charity begins at home.” Between themselves, the sibling’s two wives (the 1st marriage ended in a divorce) dutifully adhered to this noble precept. From time to time I had gifted my parents pudding bowls, cutlery, and other kitchen items. In due course they disappeared, and my mother had no wind of it whatsoever.
And as if this was not enough, they generously helped themselves to my childhood library comprising loads of children’s literature in Bengali, besides much coveted puja barshikis (annual volumes), with a smattering of fairytale books in English. I was distressed, heartbroken since a good number of these books were precious gifts from aunts and uncles, parents, friends and so forth. A part of my yesterday was gone forever!
©Ruchira Adhikari Ghosh
Photos from the Internet
#Crime #MaidsStealing #Purloining #Redhanded #slystealing #DifferentTruths
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