I first witnessed the full-fledged exhibition of this rare skill by a seasoned professional in 1984, during my summer holidays in Chennai. Sriram, my elder bro, Ramu (name changed to conceal identity hee-haw), and I visited the consumer expo at the Congress grounds. Ramu was a lanky teenager then. His sharp nose, curly hair, and sharp eyes somehow reminded me of a hawk. He was a big mouth too and never hesitated to lie to any one. Now, we all lie in life and death situations or to avoid embarrassments. Ramu lied when he was bored. When we discovered that he flunked his ninth grade exams and confronted him, he paused for a fraction of a second and said, �You won�t believe this. I passed. I mean I scraped through. My dad was pissed off with my low scores.� My mouth was open and I was staring at him without batting an eyelid. He paused for effect, and whispered, �My dad spoke to the school principal and requested her to cancel my promotion. He wants me to pass with high scores this time.� I fell on the ground, laughing my ass off. I mean the guy had a sense of humor.
Even back then, I was stunned at his extraordinary imagination. (Of course there is Ed in Chittoor (where I lived then). Ed is this short, dark, stocky guy. His family had a huge farm, from which we used to buy a lot of stuff like vegetables and fruits. Ed, right after we became his neighbors, gave us a basket full of mangoes. When my mom asked him why, he said, �I passed my SSLC aunty.�
Same time next year, Ed dropped off a packet of milk sweets. Why? You guessed it right, he had passed SSLC. It went on for some four years; chocolates, Fruit baskets, a crate of cola and so on. We never questioned him about the logic behind passing the same grade many times over. I mean I loved the way he shared his happy moment. We moved in 1989 to a new house and eventually to Chennai in 1993. I am sure that Ed still celebrates his passing the SSLC grade every year even now. SSLC result is probably second only to Christmas to Ed I guess. )
Coming back to Ramu, I never knew that he was an expert at stealing stuff from shops. He was so good that the unsuspecting friend accompanying Ramu would never realize that Ramu had stolen a bag full of chips while diverting the shopkeeper�s attention to the floor cleaner that sat right at the top of the display rack. I never knew about Ramu�s repertoire as I was living with my folks and Suren (younger bro) in Chittoor. Sriram, my elder bro, was living with my granny in Chennai. So, he and Ramu, whose family stayed next door to my granny�s, became friends. They joined Karate classes together and legend has it that Ramu had the entire school believe that he was an expert in Karate. Ramu gave up Karate exactly after three days. It was too much work for him. Or probably he stole the master�s precious Black belt.
So, there we were, the three of us, Sriram, Ramu, and I in the buzzing milieu that was the consumer fair. We stopped by at a stall that sold stuff like stationery, key chains and small gift items. I was checking out a key chain when Ramu asked me, �like it?� I nodded I mean I didn�t care too much. We left the shop and walked towards another shop that was selling popcorn. As we were nearing the popcorn store, Ramu handed me a dozen key chains. While we were eating popcorn, Ramu ventured to the Chocolate stall and came back with three or four bags of chocolates. I knew that he was penniless. So it went on. Photo frames, toys, cookies, Ramu unleashed his repertoire on unsuspecting shopkeepers and took home a bounty. Free of cost. He made it look so simple. �Listen to your instincts�� he would tell us, ��don�t be in two minds. You are f###ed if you are.� I hope Ramu is doing all right. Haven�t seen him or met him in years. Ramu, if you are reading this, sit back, roll down the memory lane, and have a good laugh. You were, probably still are, an eccentric idiot.
As there are smooth operators like Ramu, there are morons in the trade too. This other friend of Sriram stole an adult Boxer from some cop�s house and left it our house saying that the dog belonged to his aunt who was out of station. My mom loves dogs. She fell for it. So we tied up the dog to a tree right outside the tenement. All ten residents became friends with it. It was a nice pooch all right, trained by the cops after all. Even my granny used to hand-feed curd rice to the dog; it was a gruesome site, watching my granny�s wrinkled palm in the dog�s huge, ugly mouth. All that was shattered when the cops arrived one fine morning in a Jeep and asked for my brother Sriram. My mom beat the shit out of all three of us. The dog went off to its rightful master and my bro�s friend was grounded for life.
None of my friends possess(ed) this divine skill though. But Suren was acquainted with some masters. Think about it, this guy stole traffic lights the middle of the night; he just broke the lights and took them home. The same guy stole the Copper wire of the lightning conductor of a huge apartment complex (that must have been three or four Kg, or probably more).
The best that I could manage was flicking books and audio tapes from guys that I hated. I have to admit there is a special thrill in acquiring stuff through �unconventional� means. So, if you are still in school or college here is my piece of advice: if you are unsure of it, drop it!
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