It was not a normal countenance; there was perhaps a streak of conceit; it could have been of apprehension as well. Both of us stopped at his request. My friend, a former top police official, did the talking while I preferred a safe distance. The stranger, a bit incoherent, narrated his travails. He had been drugged and then robbed in train by strangers who tricked him. Police could not be of help when he narrated his problem on getting down at Bhubaneswar. He needed sixty rupees to return home in Kendrapara district. My friend ascertained his name and promised to speak to the police officer to render assistance and advised him to go to the police- station. The stranger was not impressed and was reluctant. My friend insisted. We are not carrying money with us; we are having a walk, my fiend explained. He turned back and we resumed walking. My friend again ascertained his name, to find out any contradiction between the two names he had blurted out. He was telling a lie. If he was without money since yesterday, why was he smelling of liquor? he said. Would you have paid him the amount had he accosted you alone? My wife asked me after I narrated the experience on return from walk. I think I would have paid him, I said, almost naturally. Paid him even after realising he had had a drink? she said with a tone of surprise. Yes, I am not convinced as yet that drunkards are always liars, even if he was, fifty rupees I would gladly give if a stranger asked for with a good story; I said. Tomorrow I need to ask my friend whether he did speak to the Railway Police station about the young man.
Posted on: Mon, 30 Jun 2014 03:00:46 +0000
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