The Women of Rishi - I: A Happy Intrusion of Innocence
From an unknown nobody to a wanted somebody
This is my story of gaining informed and insightful maturity. The changes to where I am now were as a result of a great deal of chance combined with the mentoring of a few. My contribution to my own education was only to be receptive to an intelligent instruction. There was minimal cleverness or inspired moves on my part except of those that were made unconsciously through sheer masculine instinct.
I figured my learning would be instructive to others like me. It might be entertaining to a few as well.
I had moved out of the comfort and familiarity of my sleepy home town. I was now in a metropolis in another country far away. It was new and exciting, and sometimes unfamiliar and scary. It was also a challenge to survive and I did that with a great deal of determination and positive energy.
Then this happened.
A Handbag by Coach
I got off the subway train at the Don Mills station as usual and walked briskly to the escalators. It was rush hour time and, amidst the mass of hustling humanity, on a bench just ahead of me, sat a girl in an orange dress with her head buried in her hands. When I got close I realized she was sobbing soundlessly. I wondered if I should stop and inquire, or let her be, like the hundreds of other busy big city dwellers thought, to sort herself out.
A little voice in my head told me I should give myself a rare opportunity to make a difference in another's life. I bent over her.
"Hello. Can I be of any help?"
She turned her head towards me but was still looking down. The sobbing had stopped and rubrous wet cheeks appeared. No words yet.
"Are you OK? What happened?" I walked over to the other side of the bench and sat beside her.
Then she turned towards me and looked at me with red, teary eyes that were partly questioning my motives. "I have been robbed!" She sobbed wiping her eyes on her shoulder.
"Oh no!" I was now very sympathetic.
She told me the story of how a man had grabbed her handbag, ran towards the train on the other platform just before the train doors shut and jumped in and got away. She pointed in the direction of the train's departure. Don Mills was a station terminus and the train I came in, ended its journey there.
I thought quickly and my good sense got me to act fast. "Come on, let's go!" I said to her asking her to move. "Let's get the station supervisor and make a complaint. They can get him at the next station!"
She got up and ran with me as we scrambled through to the escalator looking for the officer.
"Do you have a description of the person?"
"Yes. He was tall with a grey hoodie and black pants. He was lean and wore shades."
"That'll do."
When we encountered the official, who looked more like a homeless bum in a stolen uniform, he asked us to go to the nearest police station. Here we go, I thought. We lost the opportunity to grab this guy at Leslie, the next station to the west.
For the next hour and a half we were at the police station. I sat outside, after I let the officer know that I was only a helpful onlooker. Then she used my cell phone to make a few emergency calls to her bank, phone company and her employer. Meanwhile it was inevitable that I got to know some details about her. We sipped a coffee at the local Tim Hortons.
Her name was Kristine with a 'K' she emphasized and she lived in Brampton, a western suburb and was a factory worker. Her parents were Irish immigrants and she lived all her life in different parts of Ontario and finally settled where she is now. She had come to the Don Mills area to settle a dispute with a local community college, where she was attending online accounting classes and where a discrepancy was claimed in her fee payment. She had lost her Coach
Tali Bucket
handbag containing her bank cards, cell phone, some money and some ID cards. She was naturally very upset and teared up every other sentence. The $400 handbag, she said was a gift from her aunt in California.
"And oh shit!" she exclaimed: "I lost my house keys too! What a fuck up. That bastard! I hope they get him and I'll give him a good kick in his balls!" That was a good no nonsense introduction to Kristine's personality.
The bored police officer that registered her case, told her that their database may have a match to the description provided which may be a good thing only to get the expensive handbag and maybe her IDs. The bank cards were cancelled and there wasn't much hard cash. I said she might get the keys that are of no use to the thief.
She borrowed my phone again to call the woman whose basement apartment she was living in. After numerous mistaken numbers she got her voice mail and left her a message.
"Oh gosh! Thanks so much for your time and for allowing me to use your phone," she touched my arm, "you are really a sweet person, Rishi."
Quite honestly that was the first time I noticed her as a woman. In her mid-twenties, she was half a foot shorter than my five feet eleven, a brunette with blonde streaks flowing fashionably below her shoulders and she had a pretty sharp nosed, long chinned face. She was slim and had moderate sized breasts. The loose frock concealed her other feminine curves. She was by no means a flat plain Jane.
"I need to ask you another favour to get me back to Brampton. My bus and train fare..."
"No worries." I assured her. We sat silently for some time and I guessed she was thinking of what next to do.
"But..." She looked up like she was thinking and asked: "Did Janet call back? My landlady, I mean?"
I looked at my phone and found no missed call or message. "Did you explain whose phone this was? She may be confused by an unknown number."
"Oh yeah. Silly me. Can I call again? Or let me message her and give her some details as well."
She did that after a few minutes I heard the ping of a reply. It read: 'Oh sorry to hear that Kris! Oh dear! But I am on my way to Montreal to spend a few days with my son. I think I told you. Let me think about this a bit - Janet'
It was the moment an idea popped up in my head. I tempered the awkward inferences by saying: "Let's go up to my place. It's in the building in the next block. We'll get something to eat and then decide. What?" I was acutely conscious that I could not cross the line of taking advantage of a woman in distress. That was disgusting to even think of.
She stood up wordlessly and followed me. It felt like she was thinking of where she'll stay. "Even the damn duplicate is in my desk drawer. Fuck!" She looked at me, thoughtfully. "Do you live alone?"