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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1960734-The-Stolen-Coin
Rated: E · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #1960734
Sometimes assumed mascots do not work they are taken for?

                                            The Stolen Coin


India, my beloved country had gotten independence on 15th August 1947. Wow! Was I so close to those years when nothing great had been established in the country? Neither the constitution nor infrastructure! There, flowed rivers of blood on the railway tracks as India had to face the perils of partition.

During school days, I was a prized student of history and geography. Hence, instinctive veneration towards historical monuments and items was deeply trodden in my kleptomaniac nature.

It was one cold noon in January. I was seated lacklustre at my desk, facing a heavy dirty computer monitor, and no major work was available for my area of interest. The company ran by a black-money making builder; his son was the owner of it.

She came in, trying to walk straight amid the pointed out edges of the furniture. Our workplace was neither bright nor very dull; the ambience there was of like a middle class studio flat. From the ceiling hung three quiet fans in a row. She had kept them off since the morning. She smiled broadly at me and took her seat comfortably; I glanced at her disdainfully as I never liked her smile. She had an ugly smile.

“Where is your tea?” she inquired.

“I have gulped it,” I replied, feigning heavy tone, slightly to mock her.

I wrapped in both the ends of a slumping away blazer and looked fixedly in the monitor, keenly searching about good poems on humanity. She drew herself closer to my seat, I liked it instantly, but I feared others reaction hence with squinted away eyes I checked about others position. She thrust her hand beside the monitor and grabbed my wallet in her hand; I shrank a little in little embarrassment. There was nothing enticing about the wallet content. All she could take out was that coin. Since its arrival, I had been assuming it as my financial mascot.

“What’s so special about this coin,” she asked, focusing her wide eyes upon me.

“Can’t you see the date on it?” I replied in rich condescension.

I stretched my hand and took possession of it.

“See…the date…it was minted in 1950. This coin is almost 62 years old from now. Then, many of India’s freedom fighters were alive and active.”

As manifested, she snatched the coin from my hand and I very much being in the office couldn’t quibble with her like a school child. She grinned happily and prattled hard on her seat. Indeed, she was awed to hold that heavy coin in her hand as she had found a deity or mega cosmic energy in it. And, I sat grimaced; feared she would not return my lucky charm. I was quiet and snubbed. Then, she blurted, “I am going to keep this coin with me as a gift from your side.”

“No...It’s my lucky coin….rather mascot; I cannot give it to you.”

“Now, it’s mine….it is better if you forget this.”

“Omy………my dear it’s a valued possession for me, I have never gone poor since the day I received it from an old man.”

“When I was a waiter in a hotel an old man had given it to me as a valued tip. Its quite personal, return it to me, I will get something nice for you, maybe a book or some other gift.”

She turned to her side, seemed unaffected by my pestering. I was pondering, how to get it back, and repented upon keeping my wallet so open for passers-by and other colleagues. I had that coin with me for more than seven years. Somehow, I had always a strong impulse that that coin was proving lucky to me gradually. I had heaped up enough veneration to make it act as a source of positivity from where Perennial River of financial success will keep flowing all my life. Now, in a moment’s time this little stumpy girl ruined that entire holy endeavour. I felt crippled.

As the day wore on, foggy evening began spreading chilled streams inside our office. I huddled both my hands into the blazer pocket and thought of persuading her. Outside the office, on Bombay-Poona highway the evening traffic increased all of sudden, rattling and honking of vehicles irritated everyone inside.

The HR manager, as young as I, peered all around as she was the janitor of the company. Behind her cubbyhole - workplace, all the three major spacious cabins were empty; no authoritative dishonest person had come to the office hence the day passed away like a mild picnic day for many of the employees.

Before she could leave and forget everything about that coin, I put all my attention on her and said, “Lady, this coin hold bad energy, whosoever got acquainted with it, faces bad quirk of fate, like me as you know that I am an orphan and live a shattered life. Return it to me otherwise you may face some unusual or unpleasant things in your life.”

“Ohho…….now you will say all these bad things. But, I am not going to give it back……..understand.”

She zipped out her maroon bag and left the alley. I lost it finally. The day ended, night fell and after some warm conversation with the HR manager, I was back at home. In depression I didn’t go out for dinner, I drank milk and smoked two cigarettes back to back. Whole night I remained of and on in drowsiness caused by severe chillness. I didn’t recollect whether I was asleep or not. But, my mind was at work, it was mourning the loss of the coin.

Next day she came in a beautiful dress, looked charming, and her accessories made her look like a demigod. On the contrary, I was pale, my eyes expecting the return of that lucky coin. She was quite happy and chirping about. Was the coin magical that overnight her get-up was changed; a flicker of jealousy forced me to think that her good days had started and I would be the next ruin?

I didn’t disclose the loss of coin to anybody. A few days passed and obsession about that coin faded away. Our friendship and flirting continued, we came a little closer and many a time I thought to have her.

Some days later, she stopped coming office when I asked her on the phone, she wistfully revealed that her stepmother and father were seriously ill they were admitted in hospital. I tried to sympathize into her situation by some heavy inspirational poetic words. She felt good and light and I sensed that she was accustomed to sad and aloof life.

When she returned to the office after a week, she was pale, sad and weak. Her chubby face looked drained of vitality and traces of life. She was quiet, when I spurted some movie dialogues she laughed in simple peals. I reminded her story of my fate and afflictions and tried to win her favour so that I could have her soon. Such a vile guy, I was.

I was shocked to know that her father was an eighty-year-old man. It was obvious for him to be in hospital in such senility. I couldn’t gather sympathy for him anymore. I laughed and made her laugh that his father was a crazy man to bring her onto the earth at the age of sixty. She was hardly twenty she disclosed as women rarely do it. Even her stepmother who was in the ICU was same age of her father.

Her attendance to the office cut down drastically due to hospital visits. Later on, she didn’t turn for many days, I became worried about her continuity with the job. I talked to the HR manager and her reporting manager to consider her case seriously. Out of blue, she called me and blurted that her stepmother was no more and her father’s days had been numbered out. I told her not to worry about deaths of older people as they had to die being old enough. She was very much normal and to my surprise she didn’t holler like other girls. For further days, we chatted on phone, mostly by sms. I had told her to call me whenever she felt lonely or depressed.

One fine evening when I stepped out of the hotel after a sumptuous dinner, she informed the demise of her father through sms. I felt normal to her.

Next day, she met me in the office; it was late morning, she had to talk to the HR manager before joining. I sat beside her, offered her a cup of tea and with an aim of lightening up her mood I began conversation. She was quite depressed, her eyes were almost watery.

“Don’t worry much it is a part of life. Things will be all right! Just hold on your self-belief,” I said and tried to look in her eyes.

While sipping noiselessly she said, “You know my elder brother left his job because of their illness. He had had also burrowed lump sum amount on loan for their treatment. I don’t know what will happen next. We are broke and miserable.”

“Don’t worry….he will get the job soon. And you continue working here to support him.”

“No…that’s not possible now. The HR called me to inform about my termination yesterday.  Therefore, I have come here to collect meagre salary of the days I worked.”

“Ohho…that’s bad…I will help you finding a good job.”
Our conversation was cut short by her entry, the HR manager. She was strict against girls, as she always wanted to keep all the attention in the company. Many a time, I thought she was whore, an easy available fuck but never tried to lust after her.

I took my seat at my place beside me was her seat. I didn’t realize when she left the office. While staring at her empty seat I thought about that heavy coin of 1950, it brought drastic bad luck to her family, yet she didn’t realize it. On an impulse, I thought of telling her to throw away that coin, as it was not gifted by anybody. Rather I had stolen it when I was a waiter in a bistro. It was an epitome of both: my kleptomaniac nature and preservation of historical things. But, I could not as it had to be passed on some or other person.

In a month’s time, I lost the job and moved to a new city.

© Copyright 2013 Zahid Ahmed (zahidbsbh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1960734-The-Stolen-Coin