Photo by Abhimanyu Jhingan on Unsplash
Day One: GOA FOR YOU. .
was returning home, on a rickety scooter after sundry market purchase when a speeding motorcyclist caught up with me and yelled "Aapka purse girgayaa!" (Fortunately I was on Ambica's old scooter doing 40 and not 110 on her new Avenger, and good that my smattering knowledge of Hindi allowed me to comprehend the girgayaa word). A hasty U turn took me to the spot a km away where the purse had fallen off. Stuffed as it was - with PAN & ID cards and Rs 12 K in currencies of all denominations - the ground lmpact had thrown the contents onto the busy road, and a gusty wind started spreading the money in all directions.
One youngster among the small crowd quietly approached me - holding a fistful of crumpled currency gathered at the site. A second one followed with another fistful of money. The third one handed over the purse with the IDs intact.
"Please count the money uncle! Hope we have retrieved everything before they got scattered in the wind. . ." The other youth said "We were just about to look into the ID cards to find out your phone number, and it is good you came back quick. . ." There were elders in the group who were solicitously looking on and none came forth to give me free advice as to how I should have safely handled my purse in the first place.
I raised my right hand in salute, and all I could mutter was: "I admire you, the people of Goa!"
Prabhakar