Khajuraho is about 200 odd kilometers from Orchha. It was approximately one and a half hour since the passenger train had left Orchha junction. Prerita suddenly exclaimed, “Jai where is the gimbal?” I rushed back to check my bag and Prerita checked hers. It couldn’t be found.
“When was the last time I saw it”. In my Sherlock mode, I went inside my mind palace. I remembered Prerita had used it at the station for stabilizing her phone video. Where then? Oh, it was probably at the ticket window, where I had kept it after putting it into its bag. But there was no way to confirm.
I remembered I had clicked a picture there, it could give us a clue. I picked my phone, went through the gallery and after zooming in 5x, trying to make sense of all the random pixels, I could spot the black bag. There it was! But would it still be there?
We checked the internet to find if we could contact the station directly. But for no use. These past 90 minutes in the passenger train were fun, but adjusting with 4 other people on a seat made for 3, we weren’t looking forward to a journey back.
‘What about the tuk-tuk driver? Do you have his number?’, I asked Prerita.
She answered in an affirmative and put his phone no. on dial. The tuk-tuk driver, who seemed like a drunkard last night, was the only helping hand we knew now. We called him and got to know that he was on the way to the station. He agreed to give us a call upon reaching the ticket window at the station.
Every tick of the watch seemed like an hour. When the second’s hand of the watch had completed about twenty-five hundred cycles, Prerita heard her phone ringing. Sher Singh, the tuk-tuk driver.
‘I’m standing at the ticket window, ma’am. Here you can talk to the officer.’
Prerita explained the situation and gave a short description of the item that we had forgotten at the station. The voice on the other side patiently listened, and in the end, revealed that the bag was safe and in the custody of the officer. Half the problem was resolved, but we train was headed in the opposite direction. How would we get it in Khajuraho.
That’s when we remember Ansari ji of MPTDC who was a native of Khajuraho. We had met him at Betwa Retreat, where he worked. Call it our luck, we had his number as well. Prerita called him and narrated the story.
“Are you sure it is at the ticket window? If so, then you’ll get it by the end of the day today. It’s my responsibility.”, Ansari ji said.
It was magical to hear his response. After 11am when he was done with his morning duty, he went all the way to the station, picked up the stuff that we had left and also found a driver in time who was headed our way. Next day early morning, we had already the lost item in our hands.
We were still wondering that out of all, we lost it at a place like a railway station, but still managed to get it back. I’m sure words like miraculous are made for such occasions only. Thanks to the multitude of these amazing people, who were just strangers a few days back.
Also published on Medium.