How losing my wallet taught me an important lesson on justice

It was a hot, crowded evening after a busy day at the office. I was tired as I boarded a packed bus, hoping to get home quickly. The bus was full, with people pushing and squeezing to find space. I held on tight to my seat.
When the bus conductor came around to collect the fare, I reached for my wallet in my hip pocket, ready to pay. But I found my pockets empty.
A wave of disbelief washed over me, quickly turning into panic. My wallet was gone. Picked, no doubt, in the crowd. I didn’t have to explain to the conductor, as a fellow passenger had already noticed the deft work of a thief ripping through my back pocket, relieving me of my purse. Embarrassed, I immediately signaled the conductor to stop the bus, and as soon as it halted, I jumped off and stood there with a heavy heart for a moment, feeling a mixture of frustration and helplessness. How could this happen? I wasn’t even sure when or how my wallet had been stolen. But I knew what I needed to do. I had to report the theft at the police station. Cell phones had not entered our lives then, way back in the nineties, and so I couldn’t share my sad plight with my family.
I hurried to the nearest police station, determined to lodge a report. When I stepped inside, the officer in charge was seated at his desk, busy with paperwork. I noticed his name on the nameplate. The name seemed familiar. Could it be? My friend had mentioned his elder brother was a police officer, and this surname was rare. I had a hunch.
Gathering courage, I approached the officer’s chamber. After a brief conversation, it turned out I was right! He was indeed my friend’s elder brother. His face lit up with recognition, and his tone became warm and friendly. His demeanor changed instantly. A wide smile spread across his face, and before I knew it, I was offered tea. There was warmth in the conversation, the kind that comes from an old connection.
It was a relief to meet someone familiar, especially in such a stressful situation. But when the conversation shifted to my reason for visiting, his tone took an unexpected turn.
“I’ll take care of it; after all, you are like my younger brother,” he said with concern, reaching for his wallet. “How much did you lose? I’ll give it to you.”
I was taken aback. “No, sir,” I replied firmly, refusing the money. “It’s not about the cash. My wallet had important documents—ID cards, various receipts, and other papers. More than the money, it’s about justice. The person who did this needs to be caught, or this will keep happening.”
The officer sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You know, even if we catch the pickpocket now, he would’ve already thrown away those papers. They mean nothing to him, just trash. And the money? It’s probably spent by now.”
His words stung. For a moment, I considered the futility of the situation. But then, a sense of resolve grew within me. “That may be true,” I said, “but turning a blind eye will only encourage more thefts. If we don’t act, others will suffer the same fate. It’s not just about my loss—it’s about preventing future crimes.”
The officer paused, seemingly taken aback by my insistence. “You’re right,” he finally conceded. “We often forget that small crimes lead to bigger problems if left unchecked.”
I left the station feeling a little lighter, not because my wallet was returned, but because I had done something to stop the crime from repeating and had learned important lessons.
Lessons learned:
Kindness vs. Duty: Acts of kindness are valuable, but they should not replace the responsibility of upholding justice. Ignoring small wrongdoings can encourage more criminality.
Addressing Root Problems: Minor crimes, if left unchecked, can grow into larger issues. Acting on even small matters helps prevent a culture of impunity.
Standing Up for Justice: Quick fixes may offer temporary relief, but standing for what's right serves a greater purpose for the community
Authored by: Arun Kanti Chatterjee, from Kolkata
If you too have soul-touching story to share, then send it to us at: soulcurry@timesinternet.in