A thief and a grandmother.

Disclaimer: Just a feel good story with no thought given to how (un)realistic it sounds because now, I feel like feeling good and it's almost Friday :) Vaguely based on a O'Henry story that my mom told me over phone.

"Shhh", he silently mouths to himself, for no apparent reason. He is after all alone in the hall, atleast for the time being. He lets himself down slowly, the rope grazing his callous fingers. He hangs from it for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the darkness before landing with a soft, almost soundless thump onto the floor.

His black overalls seems overkill - he did see the family leave that morning. A week of eavesdropping, a few adjustments made to the thatched roof, a pen light, the proverbial knife, a sturdy rope and he was all set.

A sudden growl and his muscles tense in anticipation. Backing himself against the wall, his ears strain to locate the source of the low growl. It seems closer now. He squints, searching for perhaps a feline movement and draws his breath in sharply. Lying down on a mat on the floor, is the old lady of the house, blissfully unaware in her sleep, of the stranger staring down at her.

Being somewhat of a novice, he reacts in haste and a slightly dirty flowervase falls on to the floor with as much noise as it can muster and breaks. The old lady sits up with a start. He gets his knife out ready to threaten, if not to harm. He is quite an innocuous thief and an amateur at that - this is only his third week - earning his livelihood without any bloodshed at all. A few ominous vague threats and he usually gets his job done.

After a few Godly invocations, she raises her voice,

"Who is there?"

He remains still and tries to ignore the slightly ticklish, irritating sensation in his nose. The fallen vase has produced a cloud of dust around it and he holds his nose closed with his thumb and index finger lest he should get one of his asthma attacks.

"Damned cat creating havoc...", she mutters to herself as she presses her palm against the floor in a slow attempt to get to her feet.

At the same instant, he breaks out into an unhelpful fit of coughs.

With a small scream, the old lady moves with surprising deftness and picks up a discarded broomstick from a corner and moves towards the noise.

He coughs continuously and his eyes begin to water and he starts to wheeze. Still, he holds his knife in front of him and between rasping breaths, he manages to say,

"Old woman. one move and..."

Another wave of coughs and he now gasps for breath.

The old lady cautiously edges towards the light switch and turns it on. She holds a hand on her chest and unconsciously murmers, "Krishna, Krishna" at the scene that greets her.

In the middle of the floor is a boy in black overalls, a knife loosely hanging from one hand and his other hand searching for something in his pockets, surrounding him on the floor are bits and pieces of the old vase. He finally drops his knife to the floor and searches with both hands - his shirt pocket, inside his shirt, his pant pockets and finally fishes out an inhaler - worth his mother's monthly salary. He takes five deep breaths through the inhaler's tube and collapses to the floor, still breathing deeply.

The old woman now comes near him, concern overtaking fear, she asks tentatively,
"Are you all right? Shall i get you some water?"

He cannot talk still and he declines with a quick wave of his right hand, "If, if you call the police..." and starts coughing again.

She sits next to him and says, "You, are in no position to steal and since you
havent stolen anything, i have little need to call the police.."

He sighs. Being a thief is hard work after all.

She brings a stainless steel tumbler with water.

"I have warmed the water a bit...drink it now."

He silently acquiesces, because he suddenly feels tired and can discern no immediate purpose to his life.

"It tastes weird", he makes a face.

"Pankajam's formula, it works wonders on my grand kids"

She pronounces formula, phaarmula and says it proudly. He thinks she is a strange old woman, probably senile.

"So, tell me, how long have you been doing..this?"

"I did not come here to exchange stories with you, now listen..."

"How dare you? You young upstart? Sit now and I will talk and you listen...and call me Pankajam patti like any respectable boy your age would!"

He sits down immediately, not accustomed to the tone and authority with which she commands.

"Now where was I...yes, first tell me, how old are you? 17..18? and what is your name?"

At this point, she looks for her thick spectacles and peers at him through them, interestedly.

"18...my name is Bhaskar..."

He is not used to being asked for his name, it's usually "Hey there!", "Do this!" - his name like his identity is of little interest to the people who live in his small world.

He is sullen now and resigns himself to fate in the form of Pankajam patti.

"Since when do you have asthma?"

Surprised at this line of questioning, he replies, "Since birth..."

"My grandson has wheezing, you know what you should do? You should boil water, mix some amrutanjan with it and inhale the vapours, wrap a towel around your face so that you get all the vapours, it always works for my Sujan...God bless the child."

This is an embarassing turn of events. Bhaskar did not have the heart to steal from the old lady any more, after all this. So, he looks around uneasily and tries to think of the fastest escape route.

"I must be leaving now, patti. My mother will be worried...I promised I would bring her some vegetables and rice..."

"Did you? You seem to be a responsible boy after all, wait here."

And he waits, once again unable to resist her command.

"This is for you and your mother. Buy vegetables and rice and give the rest to her...its not for gambling or spending on movies and kites, understand? Also, your mother, what did you say her name was?"

"Lakshmi..."

"Yes, yes, ask Lakshmi to come and see me tomorrow, an old woman's work is never done, she can help me out around the house."

He accepts the crisp currency note gratefully.

"Pankajam patti..."

"Yes thambi?"

"May I come to visit you some time?"

"Silly boy, once Lakshmi starts working here, of course you will have to come and visit, who do you think will buy us vegetables from the market and take clothes for isthri?"

Bhaskar smiles happily.

"Now run along, waking an old woman up at unearthly hours and asking silly questions...silly boy."

Bhaskar leaves and Pankajam patti locks the door and lies down on the mat again talking to herself, as she often does, "Nice boy, that Bhaskar...just needed a slight whack on his head to set him right..."