I had a fascinating experience. I park my bike on the roadside and move on to meet someone for an hour. I come back only to find the key missing. I grope deep into the pockets, check my bag, look around, even run back to the place where I had sat down but with no luck. I resign to my fate, take an autorickshaw and head back home.
By this time, it had gotten pretty late in the night and I have this small element of doubt inside me. What if someone had picked up the key and rode away with my bike. Anyways, I shirk the thought, pick up the spare key and ask my Dad to drive me to the spot.
When I landed at the spot, a middle aged watchman came over to me, showed me a key and asked if this was the key I had lost. He had actually pushed the bike to a safer location and stayed guard. My heart sunk with gratitude. I thanked him and gave him money. And that’s when I felt bad. I realised that I had trivialized his honest action. You can’t match honesty with money. I really want to go meet the watchman this weekend, take him out for lunch and make him know that he is a special person.