This story is from a time that no longer exists. The traditional methods of thievery have given way to approaches that are more dangerous and lethal. Thieves no longer drill holes through walls to steal—only the memories of such activities remain.
Pickpockets no longer need any tools; the teeming crowd does the trick. Small-time labourers can poison anyone if they want to—though there is not even the slightest chance of them doing it, for, after all, they can never save up enough money to enjoy a lavish life of crime. Thieves have become a rarity.
One of them has set up a bicycle repair shop. Another has a stall at the vegetable market. The one who sells eggs has even built a house—a house of mud tiles, but nevertheless, a house of his own.
His daughter studies in Class Four and speaks in Odia. This town survived on a mountain of information. For example, B knew A well, and although B’s relationship with C was tenuous, C was convinced for this reason—and also proud—that he knew A.
Since A was an officer, he did not take the trouble to know anyone. Also Read | India: A Bengali story in translation D lost something valuable. Let me tell you right away that the valuable object was not recovered despite D trying his best.
And the gruelling process of trying to recover it infuriated D. His chest was now permanently puffed up to such an extent that even aspirants to the army could not match during the recruitment process. Here, too, the middlemen proved to be of great i.