After cleaning up journalist's house, thief sends juicy gulab jamuns as gift

Canine constituentLalu of south Calcutta is man's best friend. One cliche that describes him best is 'bundle of fun', for Lalu, all frisky legs and wagging tail, would win the heart of anyone who stooped to pat him.The man he loves best is a former chief justice of Orissa, who has nurtured the animal ever since Lalu was a pup.Such exemplary devotion to his master won dividends for Lalu in an extraordinary way. Assembly elections are due next year in West Bengal, and voters' lists for the south Calcutta constituency were being updated.When the tabulators dropped in at the house of the former chief justice, they must have been overwhelmed by Lalu's virtues, because eventually, when the list was published they showed their appreciation by including Lalu Roy in it. There was no mention of his owner, but perhaps the dog will be his master's voice at the polls. Cash'n carry'Money, money, money' is the adoring refrain of a popular song, and most people would raise hallelujahs to that. But most people usually have less money than they would like to have, so that when the gates of luck do open and the modern manna showers down, the hallelujahs rise to a crescendo, as happened in Ootacamund recently.The office manager of a reputed school in the hill station went to the local branch of the State Bank Of India to cash a cheque for Rs 14,942. The school had noted, on the back of the cheque, the number of notes of various denominations which would make up the sum, including 90 hundred-rupee notes.The cashier ticked off the denominations with a flourish, and handed an imposing bundle to the manager. To his astonishment, the manager discovered that the money would not fit into the briefcase he normally used, so he stuffed his pockets as well.There was no stopping the hallelujahs when the school discovered that the bank had doled out 900 hundred-rupee notes in place of the 90 asked for. But, unfortunately, the money had to be returned, and the bank was contacted.Incredibly, the bank officials were least concerned and there appeared to be no lacuna in the day's transactions. Repeated calls evoked studied indifference.Finally, the manager drove to the bank, expecting a hero's welcome. All he got was a nonchalant nod of thanks. It is gratifying to learn that some people, at least, are not influenced by filthy lucre.Sweet consolationEven with Delhi's alert and sharp-shooting police force, the capital is quite an insecure place. Thieves and other denizens of the underworld ply their trade with impunity.Last fortnight, when a weary journalist returned home at the end of a hard day, he discovered his door open; fearing the worst, he took an inventory of the house, and sure enough, a cassette recorder, a portable typewriter and a transistor radio had vanished into the blue.The police were informed immediately. The next day, a team of detectives sauntered leisurely into the house and started poking and prodding, asking questions and nodding their heads intelligently when asked if the stolen stuff would be recovered. But days went by and nothing happened, until one day, the journalist received an unusual gift.Lying snugly in his letterbox one morning was a quartet of juicy gulab jamuns, wrapped neatly in newspaper. Considerably intrigued, the journalist took the sweets to the police who told him sagely that the gifting of presents to the victim was an ancient custom of thieves: a way of thanking him for his inadvertant hospitality.The victim, however, sniffed suspiciously at the inviting concoctions and threw them away. And to make sure that others do not get another chance of showing their gratitude, the journalist now uses an elephantine lock on his door, which can be opened only with a key that is nine inches long.False alarmLite in an Indian village is usually as placid as a cow chewing cud and until last fortnight, Misrikh village in Sitapur district of Uttar Pradesh was no exception to the rule.But a news report in a local daily catapulted it into the limelight: apparently, a battalion of Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOS) had come calling, carrying-out a concerted attack on the village and its surrounding fields and Playing merry hell with the crops.Soon, Misrikh received another visit, this time from a battalion of sceptical bureaucrats from the Uttar Pradesh Home Department, who sniffed and probed and questioned.Finally, they pronounced their verdict: Misrikh had not been favoured by close encounters of the third kind, and what had been taken for UFOS was in fact a very mundane dust storm. In fact, the crops were still standing. The Fourth Estate"s pen had slipped badly.Published By: AtMigration Published On: Oct 31, 2013 12:01 IST--- ENDS ---

Download App

Get 37% off on an annual Print +Digital subscription of India Today Magazine

After cleaning up journalist's house, thief sends juicy gulab jamuns as gift

Even with Delhi's alert and sharp-shooting police force, the capital is quite an insecure place. Thieves and other denizens of the underworld ply their trade with impunity.

PUBLICATIONS

TELEVISION

EVENTS

RADIO

GAMING

USEFUL LINKS

PRINTING

WELFARE

DISTRIBUTION

SYNDICATIONS

WEBSITES

EDUCATION