“Wow, this is incredibly magnificent,” Isha yelled with a big smile swinging her head from one corner to another inside one of the grand broadway show theatres at the Time Square in New York. It was running the famous Mary Poppins and was packed as any broadway show. Though we both had huge backpacks on our shoulders, we managed our way through the elegant crowd to our well-reserved seats, excited than ever to experience our first broadway show.
The theatre hall was splendid, and even with very dim lights, was tempting us to take photographs. I opened my bag, slid the hand inside the pocket for the camera, but didn’t find it. I almost skipped a heartbeat and nervously looked at Isha, who was still admiring that luxurious beauty while waiting for me to hand her over the camera. She looked at my blank face and guessed instantly. “There are so many things in this pocket. Look properly, it must be there,” she said confidently but her smile was gone. I took out some stuff and slid my hand a little deeper and there was it, hiding itself behind my blackberry. “Thanks Lord! I felt scared not because the camera is expensive but because it’s not ours,” I uttered in a relieved tone in her ear. “The other day only my friend was telling me how much he loves this camera and has so many memories with it, and I am sure he doesn’t have the backup of many of the photographs. Thanks Lord, it’s safe,” I sighed. “We should be extra careful with this camera. Let’s buy a lock for the bag after the show,” she suggested. Her smile was back and she started capturing beautiful pictures. The show was about to begin. I put the camera back carefully and kept the bag close to my chest the entire show.
After three hours, we came out completely mesmerized. The show was simply out of the world. Neither of us expected a musical drama with so many live performers to be so perfect and beautiful. It truly stood for its world-renowned popularity. But suddenly the camera incident brought me back to the reality. The bag was on my shoulders and I asked Isha to confirm all the pockets are properly zipped, especially the one with the camera. “Yes, all are zip tight. Let’s buy a lock now,” she responded. “I think we are uselessly worrying so much. I mean this is Times Square and I don’t think pickpocketing happens here,” I said in careless way. “But still what’s the harm in buying a lock,” she stressed.
After exact ten minutes, we were in a store waiting for our turn with a lock in my hand. She was in front of me in the queue, when a big guy standing behind tapped on my back saying, “hey man take care, your bag is open.” I felt a jerk of fear in my stomach even before I turned my head. My face went pale as I pulled the bag in front of me. The pocket was completely unzipped and the entire stuff was hanging out to jump on the floor. Isha held the bag when I madly shuffled things in that pocket to check for the camera. Isha searched after I failed but she didn’t find it either. A deep feeling of sadness sunk in both of us. I still had a hope that it might be hidden behind my blackberry, so I searched again. It was when we realized that the blackberry was also gone, including my glasses. And with them were gone all the moments captured by that camera.
I don’t know when it happened in those ten minutes. At the street while walking towards the store, in the store while picking the lock or in the queue while waiting for our turn, may be that big guy himself. But I do know I was ignorant. This happens everywhere and this time it happened with us, leaving my friend, Isha and me emotionally shattered.