Kartikeya Ghimire
Day I
“Did you close the door?” Nayan’s father asked his mother.
“Yes, I did. How afraid you are?” the mother said, screaming.
“During the lock-down time, the cases of theft have increased. So I am reminding you,” said the father in a low tone.
Six-year-old Nayan, who was playing nearby, looked at his parents turn by turn. He was perhaps thinking who a thief could be.
“Oh, how much are you reading? It’s enough now. It seems both father and son will forget even sleeping when they have a chance to read,” said the mother, fuming.
“It’s not like that. I am reading Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner. It’s a wonderful story. I don’t want to leave it in the middle. Only a little is left now,” the father said.
“And, what is my little son reading?” the mother asked, turning towards Nayan.
“I am drawing a thief,” he said, showing her a picture with zigzag lines. In it, he had painted terrified eyes with great clarity.
After seeing his drawing, his mother embraced Nayan and said, “You don’t need to be afraid, my child. See your Mom is with you.”
***
Day II
“Kanchha, a thief lifted my shoes worth twelve thousand rupees tonight,” Uncle Kamal was heard saying while they were sipping tea early in the morning.
“Really, Uncle? This means, thieves have started lifting even shoes these days,” the father said.
“That’s it, Babu. They were new shoes. I had bought them just yesterday, after my son gave a lot of pressure. But the goblin has stolen,” said Uncle Kamal, grumbling.
“How common thieves have become in our street!” said Nayan’s mother to her husband, expressing her concern.
“The lock-down to check Corona spread has become a source of income for many. What shall I tell you, my wife! On hearing that the thieves have now started lifting even shoes, I too have started fearing a lot. Go to the bank tomorrow and keep the little jewelries we have in its locker,” said the father, seeming rather afraid.
Nayan was resting, having taken his breakfast—milk and chocos. He lifted the doll that lay beside him and placing the same into his mother’s hand, said, “Also keep this in the locker.”
The parents started vacantly at each other.
Giving him a kiss, the mother took Nayan into her arms and said, “That’s fine, my son. I shall do it. We’ll also keep my son’s doll inside the locker.”
Nayan laughed out gently.
***
Day III
“Brother Krishna, will you please open the door?”
“Oh, who’s this, so early in the morning?” said Nayan’s father opening the door. He was muttering.
Standing on the door was Brother Suraj, his eyes filled with tears.
“What’s wrong, Brother? Why are you crying?” the father asked.
“Someone lifted two pairs of my clothes from where I had left for drying. I have no money to get a new pair now. I lost my job due to Corona. What am I to do now, Brother?” he said.
The father sent Suraj away, giving him a pair of shirt and pants of his own.
“I am now even more afraid to know thieves are lifting even clothes,” he said, turning towards his wife. “Also take the little cash left at home and deposit it in the bank tomorrow itself. We must make payments through E-Sewa now,” he said seemingly quite afraid.
Nayan was busy playing with his toy car. He ran into his bedroom quickly and picked his piggy-bag from underneath the bed. Handing it over to his mother, he said, “Also deposit my money in the bank.”
The parents looked at each other vacantly.
With love, the father embraced Nayan and said, “That’s OK, my son. We shall do that. I shall myself go to the bank tomorrow and do it.”
Nayan smiled.
Days rolled in the same way. Every day, Nayan went on hearing one thing or another about thieves.
***
Friday
It was bedtime. Nayan was playing beside his bed. In a sad tone, his father said to his mother, “The thieves are doing a lot of damage. Oh, how much they are bothering everyone!”
“Really. They don’t spare anything left outdoors,” said the mother, fuming.
Nayan stood from his place, went inside and came with his little, colorful ball in his hand. He pulled the drawer of his father’s computer table, put the ball in it, and gently restored the drawer.
Seeing him do so, both his parents smiled.
“Let’s go to bed, my son. You and I shall wake up early tomorrow and go for morning walk,” said the father, giving Nayan a loving pat.
“Let’s go to the ground near out house and play the game of chasing, shall we?” said Nayan, quite happy.
“We shall! I will be winning it tomorrow,” the father said.
“Oh no, boy! I can’t allow you to win,” Nayan said.
On hearing this reply from Nayan, his mother giggled. His father smiled too. Nayan did the same.
***
Saturday
“Hello, are you hearing me? The boys in the street happened to catch the thief that went about stealing all the week. They have kept him at the playground, all his limbs bound,” said Nayan’s mother with a start, as soon as she was back from the temple early in the morning.
Nayan and his father had stayed ready, deciding to move out for morning walk as soon as the mother would be back home.
“Really, Mom?” said Nayan and ran towards the ground.
“Walk slow,” said his father, who also went following the boy. Nayan reported at the ground, all panting. In the ground, there was a crowd of people from the neighborhood. Nayan pressed himself deeper, squeezing through the crowd.
All of a sudden, Nayan cried out, “Daddy, what they called a thief is, after all, a man.”
All the people in the crowd laughed, staring at him.
Nayan stood, holding his father’s hand. He was staring incessantly at the thief that had been bound to a pole.
There were wounds on the thief’s cheeks. Blood was oozing out of his mouth.
After some time, Nayan moved forward, though none could tell what his intentions were. He went close to the thief. In no time, he untied the rope that had bound the thief.
From inside the crowd, Uncle Kamal came out and said, “Oh, that is this child doing?”
The thief looked this way and that. Seizing the opportunity, he took to his heels and disappeared from there.
“Look here. Because of Krishna’s son, the thief caught with a great difficult has run away,” said Uncle Kamal, grumbling.
“That is very bad. He would have told where our things are, if he got beatings from the police,” the youths said.
All those gathered on the ground sat talking, regretting the running away of the thief.
Bur something magical happened after ten minutes. The thief, who had just escaped, returned with a huge sack on his back and came into the same ground. Regretting in loud cries, he poured all the things that were inside the sack. The people, whose goods had been stolen, picked up their respective goods one by one.
Seeing this, Nayan went close to the thief who was crying. From inside his pocket, Nayan took out a Chocopan and placed it in the hand of the thief. Staring incessantly at Nayan, the thief broke out into even louder cries.
Another wonder followed in a while. In the hands that had beaten the thief a while ago, there were biscuits and chocolates now. All of them placed those eatables in front of the thief. In the meantime, a five-year old child came running and said, “Daddy!” All the people present there looked at the child in wonder.
“Whose child is this?” said Uncle Kamal, shouting in a loud voice.
The child went running and sat on the thief’s lap. He was allured by the eatables in front of his father. Without delay, he started eating them. On seeing him eat those things, one could easily tell he was awfully hungry.
After a while, there came a woman, walking with the help of a pair of crutches. She had only one leg. She picked up the biscuits and chocolates and filled them into the sac.
Before leaving for home, Nayan gave a quick look at the thief. The thief placed one of the biscuits and a bar of chocolate in Nayan’s hand. With a feeling of uneasiness, Nayan looked at his father.
“You may receive it; it’s a gift,” the father said.
After this, Nayan returned home, holding his father by his hand. All the people in the crowd observed him as he walked homeward. Of all the people there, it was the thief, who watched Nayan most closely.
These days, that particular thief has a different identity in Nayan’s street. He is known more as the father of a little child and the husband of a handicapped wife. He has become a respectable man living in that locality.
Translation: Mahesh Paudyal
[This story is a part of Lockdown and the Thief and Other Stories due for publication soon. Kartikeya is a senior writer of children’s literature, and fiction is his area of interest. His fame, as a writer, rests in collections like Piriri’s Patriotism, Tale of Master Pumpkin and Other Stories, The Duster Flew, Interesting Stories for Children, etc. He is the President of Children’s Literature Foundation, Nepal.]