To the One Who Stole My Purse
~Shuchita Tuli*
I understand how the money was of importance to you. It was of so much value that it asked you to steal it from my bag. But did it tell you how I had earned it in exchange of time and sweat?
I understand how those bits of paper lying with the money did not lure you much. But did they tell you that they were movie tickets to the first movie I and my best friend had watched together?
I understand how a business card inside did not mean anything to you. But did it tell you how it was the card my friend had designed and given it to me the time we met after a gap of one whole year?
I understand how you would have seen the locket and thought how pretty it was.
But did it tell you that it is a puzzle piece which completed my friendship with my lifelines who possess the other pieces that made a complete puzzle until you took mine away?
I understand how you might have been in need
But do you understand how those tiny things you took along with the money held bags full of sweet memories that you did not think twice before taking away?
You did not take away a purse full of money
You took away my hard work and my memories.
Did those paper bits and locket not tell you that they were there in the purse for a reason?
A purse because it was opened every day. Because it used to let me take only a few seconds to go through so many memories all at once. It used to bring a smile on my face, making my miserable self happy each time it saw those things you might have thrown away from the fear of being caught.
God bless you, dear stealer
You did not just steal my property as they say in your description, you stole all my memories away.