I was running.

I do not run. Though I can gain several kilos without becoming overweight, my 58 years old knees demand retirement benefits. I tested them only the last fortnight over the treadmill, and was greeted with pain that lasted more than a week.

So, I do not run.

Yet, I was running. Behind a taxi. A taxi available for hire. Only, I did not want to hire it.

I had just alighted from that taxi. My wife and daughter had followed me. As the taxi had departed, my daughter had announced that her cell phone had slipped from her pocket and onto the seat of the taxi. The phone that she had purchased just fourteen days back. The phone that was the most expensive phone of her life.

The taxi had taken off, already moved about ten metres, and was gaining speed. I was not sure whether it was the one just ahead, or the one ahead of the one just ahead – passengers keep dropping from taxis at the Dubai Mall like winter dandruff. There was no time to think. I ran, waving hands frantically. My daughter joined me seconds later. We ran together, gesturing, slowing down the traffic behind. The taxis ahead of us took a left turn and vanished.

We returned to the spot where we had alighted, and where my wife waited with my granddaughter.

'Police! Let us complain to the police', I exclaimed.

The police post at the Dubai Mall has three desks. There were two persons in uniform, a gentleman in a black suite, and another gentleman in the traditional white costume, only one occupying the desk.

'I left my phone in the cab,' my daughter cried.

'Do you have the number of the taxi?' the gentleman in the suit asked.

She replied in the negative.

'Don’t worry, relax,' he said.

'Did you engage the taxi from an authorised taxi stand?' he asked.

My wife replied in the negative.

'Don’t worry, relax,' he said.

'Do you remember the colour of the top?' he asked.

I replied in the negative.

'Don’t worry, relax,' he said.

'Did you hail it through some service?' he asked.

We replied in the negative.

'Don’t worry, relax,' he said.

'Did you pay through the card?' he asked.

We replied in the negative.

'Don’t worry, relax,' he said.

I realised that we were not helping the police at all. I informed, 'The driver is an Asian, perhaps a Bengali.'

'Can you call the number?' he asked.

We replied that we did not have another phone. Could we use his phone, we asked hopefully.

He gave his phone, chuckling, 'Do not take this phone away.'

My daughter dialled.

'If it rings, no problem,' he said. 'If it doesn’t, hmmm …' he added.

I know that. I lost my phone two years ago. It was switched off within seconds of my noticing the loss. I never found it back.

What if the driver had switched it off and removed the SIM card? What if the next passenger in the cab had pocketed it? What if …

It rang!

'Answer the phone, answer the phone, pleeeaaase,' we prayed.

Someone answered. It was the driver. He said that he had taken another passenger and could not return to the Mall for at least an hour. Would it be okay if he handed it over to us at Al Nahda, where we had engaged the taxi, he asked.

'No, no, no, pleeeaaase return to the Dubai Mall and give the phone at the police post! We will pay you the fare and something extra, pleeeaaase,' my daughter pleaded.

I requested the officer to help.

'Hella, come to the Mall.'

Pause.

'What is your number?'

He started noting down the number.

'Don’t disconnect. I am calling you on this number to cross check.'

His colleague dialled the number – 0 - 5 - 0 - 8 - 9 - 6 - 4 - 4 - 2 - 3. The number was correct.

The officer looked at my daughter, 'Don’t worry, relax! The driver will come in an hour and return your phone. I am going now, actually my duty hours finished 45 minutes ago', he said.

An hour passed. There was no sign of the driver. We waited at the police post.

The officer on duty called the driver, 'Hmm…when?'

He looked at us, 'He is coming.'

Two minutes later he said, 'He has delivered your phone at the Lost & Found office.'

We ran to the Lost & Found office.

There it was, the phone. The phone that my daughter had purchased just fourteen days back. The phone that was the most expensive phone of her life. Intact.

'Oh, the driver didn’t meet us. How shall we reimburse him,' we asked with guilt.

The case of the missing mobile was resolved without becoming a case.

About Author

Amitabh Varma

Member Since: 09 Aug, 2016

...

View Profile
Share
Average user rating

5 /1


Kindly login or register to rate the story
Total Vote(s)

1

Total Reads

225

Recent Publication
The Woman And Her Parents
Published on: 15 Oct, 2018
The Shoe Saga
Published on: 05 May, 2018
Intellectual Paralysis?
Published on: 11 Jan, 2018
The Case of the Missing Mobile
Published on: 28 Nov, 2017
Six Musings of An Old Man
Published on: 28 Nov, 2017

Leave Comments

Please Login or Register to post comments

Comments