The Lost Bag I was excited. I was travelling to a city I had heard so much about – Gwalior. Like all other cities under the patronage of erstwhile princely families, Gwalior was a flourishing town, known for its premier educational institutes- the prestigious Scindia School being one of them. We boarded the Shatabdi Express at Agra and enjoyed the scenic ride to Gwalior. When we reached the place, we were greeted by a near empty station and a handful of vehicles outside. “There is an auto rickshaw strike today Sir,” my local sales manager informed be after making a few quick inquiries. “How will we make it to Dr. Gupta’s place?” I asked him a little concerned. “There are a few autos running sir. Not all the unions have supported the strike.” So we bargained a bit, jumped into one of the autos and made our way quickly through the near-empty streets to Dr. Gupta’s Pathology Laboratory, which was on the outskirts of the town. As soon as our auto reached Dr. Gupta’s clinic, a male helper ran out and carried our bags inside for us. I was not used to this kind of courtesy and must admit that it made me feel real good to be treated like a VIP. I took my time getting out of the vehicle and out of habit, pulled out my comb from its customary place in my trouser pocket. Using the rear-view mirror, I tidied my hair, adjusted my neck-tie and made sure I looked presentable. I was there to convince Dr. Gupta and other pathologists like him that our blood chemistry analyzer – the AUTOCHEM 101 was his best option – features and price-wise. Having exchanged the normal pleasantries with Dr. Gupta, I set up the analyzer, asked for a few serum samples and got down to running a few tests. All this took a while. A little later, I realized that I needed something from my handbag. I looked around the room and it was not there . So I went to the Dr. Gupta’s office and looked there. Under the table. On the tables. Behind the furniture. Same result. No sign of the bag. This was before credit cards were introduced in the country, and we had no choice but to carry hard cash. All my money was in that bag. I just had to find it. When everyone ended up with the same answer – not here, I panicked. I realized that I’d probably left the bag in the auto, believing that the helper had carried that bag along with the others when we arrived at Dr. Gupta’s that morning. Dr. Gupta got on the phone and informed the police. “Do you know the Registration Number on that auto?” He asked me. I shook my head, side to side. There was no real need to note the registration number. We got into the doctor’s car and went to railway station hoping against all hope that we would find the auto and the driver there. Prayed real hard too. Gwalior is a large city. That auto could be anywhere. Without the registration number, it was like looking for the proverbial needle. The local sales manager spoke to a couple of auto drivers who had parked their vehicles near the station, asking them if they knew which auto we had taken that day. “Yes” one of them said to our utter surprise, “you took the auto just in front of mine. His number is MP ….. and he did in fact mention that someone had left a bag in his auto this morning.” “Where is he?” “Over there, by the corner.” The auto driver was summoned. ‘Yes Sir, I did find a bag. Did not want it to be misplaced so I have left it at home. If you pay me the fare, I shall go home and fetch it.” Fifteen minutes later, my brown leather bag was in my hands – all contents intact. Praise God!
Posted on: Sat, 15 Mar 2014 19:23:03 +0000