Memories of Another Day

I clearly remember the day, though it happened many years back. My best friend and I had bunked college and gone shopping in Commercial Street, a hub of Bangalore, on her bike. Parking in a bylane, we started hunting for a pair of black shoes for her.

We visited many shops, but nothing appealed to us.

As we returned to the bylane, we saw an old man sweeping the ground. My friend handed me her handbag. Slinging it over my shoulder, along with my bag, I sat behind her as she started her bike.

We reached my house and spent an hour chatting.

While leaving my friend picked up her handbag. It felt lighter. Her wallet was missing from it. “I remember handing it to you before I started the bike,” she said.

But I had no memory of it.

“I’m sure we dropped it in that lane, the sweeper must have taken it,” she moaned. “It had my ID card and birthday money.”

We drove back to that bylane and started searching.

“What are you looking for?” a shopkeeper asked.

My friend described her wallet.

“The sweeper found it here and left it with me,” the shopkeeper handed my friend her wallet.

My friend opened it. Everything was intact.

“Shouldn’t you leave something for the sweeper?” the shopkeeper said.

“Please thank him on my behalf,” my friend gave a few notes to the shopkeeper.

That day we realized that there are some people who not just believe in honesty but actually live it.