The Theft | Amita Samant

Dense clouds gathered steadily, forming a thick grey ceiling under the sky. The bellowing winds warned the coast about the powerful cyclone forging ahead in its direction. Rows of tall coconut trees swayed violently as the wind hurled its wrath over them. It was a little past noon, but the sun had sheltered itself long back.

The small coastal town of Shampur held a deserted look. Except for a few open stores, all the shutters were pulled down. Seated under the shed of a tea stall was a young man named Ravi. An old black raincoat, paired with a tweed muffler wrapped around his head, was his only guard against the storm. Unperturbed by the turbulent weather, he calmly sipped a hot cup of tea. However, his gaze was glued to the two-storeyed bungalow on the other side of the road.

The tarpaulin sheet covering the tea stall rose like a dome as the strong gusts sped underneath. But Ravi seemed unconcerned. Neither was he bothered by the loud shuddering of the tin sheets that formed the walls of the tea stall. “Hurry up!” snapped the stall owner as he hurriedly pulled the shutter down. “You are alone out here. You don’t want to die in the cyclone, do you?” But Ravi did not budge. With eyes still fixed on the bungalow, Ravi slipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a five-rupee coin. Throwing a confused glance at his strange customer, the stall owner grabbed the coin and rushed for the safety of his home.

The wind began tearing the tarpaulin sheet apart. Ravi shivered as the cold raindrops pierced his muffler, dampening his hair. It was just a matter of time before these seemingly harmless droplets would turn into a raging downpour. But he would still have to take the risk. After all, risks were a part and parcel of a thief’s life. Besides, what he was planning to steal today was so precious that it was worth all the risk in the world. Ravi had decided that this would be his last theft. He would lead the rest of his life peacefully if only he succeeded today.

Ravi took another sip of the tea, which was no longer hot. Not that it mattered, for the tea was a mere pretence for keeping a watch on the bungalow. As it got darker, the lights in the bungalow turned on. A burly, middle-aged man looked outside from the first-floor window to check the storm situation. Even from a distance, Ravi recognized the youngest of the four brothers who occupied the property with their families. Like most rich landlords, they used their power and political might to bully the villagers. If not for the storm, it would have been impossible to venture close to the heavily guarded bungalow without being noticed.

The gusts and the downpour were getting stronger. Sharp bolts of lightning ripped through the sky. The roaring thunder that followed made Ravi’s heart pound. The wind, the rain, and the thunder all seemed to be persuading him to give up his daredevil mission. But, Ravi had made up his mind. Today’s mission would determine the direction his life would take.

Ravi had meticulously prepared for this day. He had studied the bungalow’s surroundings thoroughly. The wild bushes on the left provided a perfect passage. On the right was a flight of stone steps that led to a small temple. Behind the bungalow was a vast expanse of rice farms. The bungalow itself was enclosed by a high wall, but that was not a problem, as Ravi knew exactly how to break in.

As expected, the street lights began to flicker. Now was the time to act. Ravi got up and shot a glance at the temple. He then looked at the road, which had now transformed into a gurgling stream. His thick muffler serving as a shield and the black outfit as a camouflage in the dark, Ravi darted across the road. But even his shrewd mind could not anticipate how muck-ridden the ground was on the other side of the road, and Ravi slipped straight into the bushes.

“Hurdle number one,” thought Ravi as he held on to a relatively sturdy branch and supported himself onto his feet. “I know you don’t want me to do this!” he mumbled, frowning at the ferocious skies. “But I’m as stubborn as you,” he proclaimed. Step by step, he moved towards the narrow, muddy trail that separated the bungalow from the farms, and sliding his hand over the fence wall, he cautiously progressed ahead.

Ravi’s frail jacket was no match for the lashing rain, and he shivered as his clothes soaked. The currents were so powerful that he had to keep rubbing the water off his eyes to clearly see whatever little portion of the path was visible. The tall paddy swayed vigorously, hitting him like lashes. Yet, holding on to his undampened determination, Ravi trudged ahead.

A few steps forward, and something slimy slid around his leg, propelling Ravi into the air as he jumped in fright. “Snake!” he gasped. He quickly slipped his hand inside his jacket’s outer pocket to retrieve the torch he was carrying for an unwanted rendezvous like this. Alas, the torch was missing. He dug into every pocket but could not feel the torch anywhere. That is when it struck him—the torch must have tumbled out when he fell into the bushes. 

Ravi froze as the slithering body continued to rub at his ankles. Is this the end? Terrified, he looked up at the dark, mystical sky, and as if touched by the yearning in his eyes, the sky answered with a flash of lightning. Ravi’s experienced eyes quickly grabbed the opportunity to inspect the ground, and ah! He let out a sigh of relief. The slimy object was not a snake but a wet stalk of an uprooted crop. For the first time today, Ravi smiled as he freed his leg and threw the stock back into the fields. The lightning was a divine signal, Ravi thought, as he felt encouraged to move on.

The intermittent flashes of lightning gave Ravi enough time to scan his surroundings. Not that the danger of reptiles was eliminated, but at least he felt more confident. Ignoring his drenched, trembling body, he courageously strode, one step at a time, until he reached the tall, grilled gate at the rear of the bungalow.

The clouds clashed once again, illuminating the whole backyard for a split second. The backyard was deserted. The security guards had already retired to their chambers, delegating their duty to a gigantic lock and a heavy chain that now secured the gate. But this did not bother Ravi, as the door to his destiny was still a few feet away. He sped past the large gate and did not stop until he reached the unruly bunch of creepers that covered a part of the wall ahead. He shoved the creepers aside to reveal the small wicket gate hidden behind. Yes! How close he was to his goal—and also to his freedom.

Ravi reached out for the latch. The rust covering the latch pricked his fingers as he probed further to find the old, equally rusted lock. He tugged at it, but despite its frail condition, the lock refused to let go, like an old loyal guard using every ounce of his strength to protect his master. But Ravi had come prepared. He unzipped the side pocket of his raincoat and quickly brought out a key. He looked around before inserting it. It was unlikely that anyone could be watching in this weather, but it was a protocol he was habituated to.

The key did its job perfectly, and the lock gave way. “Thank you, Baiju,” Ravi mumbled, thinking about the risk his friend had taken to make a duplicate key for him. Ravi would return his favour someday.

The gate creaked as he pushed it slightly; It had been put into action after years. In the good old days, the gardeners and servants of the house used the wicket gate. However, as the banana and mango plantations now occupied the backyard, this gate mostly remained shut.

Ravi cautiously opened the gate just enough for him slip through. He, once again, glanced up at the windows. The rooms were mostly dark, except for dim candle lights that flickered in some rooms. The territory seemed safe to proceed. Ravi tip-toed along the row of banana trees towards the right. The bulky leaves flapped heavily as the storm pounded in full fury. He was only a few metres away, yet the journey seemed so long and excruciating as he tripped over fallen banana stalks and slipped on the submerged soil. Ravi was tired and panting heavily, but he could not afford to rest. Time was ticking. It would not take long for the water to flood the farm, making it impossible to escape.

Braving the chaos around him, Ravi finally arrived at his destination—the animal shed. It was a crude brick structure with a tiled roof. A rickety wooden door, secured with a latch, was somehow holding up against the storm. Ravi carefully opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The shed was dark and cold, and it smelled of cow dung.

Ravi stood still for some time till his eyes could catch the faint silhouettes of the cattle. With his torch missing, finding what he was looking for was an uphill task. There was only one way out! Ravi took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and whistled. And despite the thunder outside, his ears caught the feeble sound he was praying to hear. Ravi cautiously tip-toed in the direction of the sound, and within seconds, he was looking into two lamentable eyes, pleading for help.

The next day…

“Madam, please take care of Maya,” Ravi cried as he hugged and petted the distressed goat he stole from the animal shed. “Don’t worry, Maya is in safe hands now,” assured the lady from the animal rescue team as she gently guided the goat onto the truck. Maya would accompany some sick and injured cattle to the organization’s shelter-cum-healthcare centre in a neighbouring town. As he waited for the truck to leave, Ravi sobbed inconsolably, venting out a flood of emotions accumulated within.

Maya was so tiny and frail when Ravi’s mother brought her into their ramshackle home. She had found the lost kid trembling in the fields. Ravi’s mother nurtured the young one as if it were her own child. Despite her meagre earnings, she never missed preparing cud for Maya. Soon, Maya began zestfully prancing around the house and into the fields. It was only Ravi’s whistle that brought her hopping back home. Not that Ravi particularly liked Maya, but he tolerated the little creature for his widowed mother’s sake. Within two years, Maya grew up to be a healthy goat, full of vigour.

Ravi’s profession started keeping him away from home for days at length. He lied to his mother that he was trading in grains. The truth was, he was in hiding most of the time. He had successfully escaped the police so far, a perk that motivated him to take greater risks for bigger booty. It was Maya who kept his mother company.

When Ravi’s mother died, the animal became a burden for him. So, when Ravi heard that the landlord needed a healthy goat for breeding, he quickly gave Maya away for a fat lump sum. Ravi was happy to finally get rid of the animal and buy his way to freedom.

A few days back, when news of the impending cyclone started making rounds, Ravi’s friend Baiju came panting to his house. Baiju served as a cook in the bungalow. “Save your goat!” he gasped. “When all the supplies get cut off, they will kill her for meat.” Ravi felt his stomach convulse as if he would throw up. “What about the breeding?” Ravi asked in a distressed voice. “That didn’t work, so now she is of no use to them alive,” Baiju answered. Baiju slipped the wicket door key into Ravi’s pocket and left his bewildered friend to make the most important choice of his life.

Ravi was surprised by the strange longing he felt for Maya a feeling he had never felt before. Or had he always loved her, but kept resisting any affection from surfacing? Was he incapable of accepting the compassion his heart hid deep within? Ravi could still feel Maya’s soft fur rubbing against his leg, and his eyes moistened as he remembered kicking her away. He could still see the innocent faces of his mother and Maya, so happy in each other’s company. He had lost his mother, but he was not going to lose Maya. Ravi resolved to make the biggest and last theft of his life!

If trudging to the animal shed amid a cyclone was frightening, stealing a fully-grown, live goat was even more herculean. When Ravi walked Maya out of the wicket gate, the fields had already started flooding. Sensing her freedom, Maya offered no resistance to the storm and decided not to bleat. With the water almost touching his knees, Ravi somehow managed to keep the goat afloat. Instinctively, Maya held her mouth upwards and waddled through the mucky flood waters with all her strength.

With one hand around Maya’s neck and the other sweeping across the water to strike away the logs and chaffs that kept crossing their paths, Ravi finally made it to the temple on the other side of the bungalow. More than half of the steps were already submerged. However, the water was unlikely to reach the sanctum where Ravi had placed a raft, a borrowed oar, and a small lantern. The temple priest was a warm-hearted old man who had readily agreed to help after learning about Ravi’s rescue mission.

Ravi and Maya hid in the sanctum until the storm subsided. The priest had left a pot full of prasad and water for anyone who took shelter. Once the weather had calmed down, Ravi set the raft afloat and cautiously rowed Maya towards the highway, across which the rescue centre was set up.

As the truck’s engine roared, Ravi jolted back to the present. He would probably never meet Maya again. But what mattered was that she was in safe hands. Would the brothers find him? Would the police arrest him? Frankly, he didn’t care. Somewhere in the now brightened sky, his mother would be watching him with pride.

The truck jittered down the muddy road and disappeared at the next corner. Ravi’s life, too, would take a new turn, as he now possessed an asset so invaluable that he would never steal again—a clear conscience!

Amita’s writing journey commenced with her blog – Candid Thoughts, where she offers a medley of experiences, opinions, fiction, and poetry. Her fascination for imaginative and magical worlds led her to write for children. After freelancing for a children’s newspaper, she gradually began writing fiction and published her first storybook – The Mysterious Creepers of Pinewoods and Other Stories. Amita holds a degree in Economics and has worked with research organizations before venturing into her true calling. Apart from writing, she loves sketching, painting, movies, and chilling out with her family.