|
|
 |
 |
| Sunday, 15 February 2004 |
 |
|
 |
Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
|
William catches a thief by CAROL ALOYSIUS Over the past week things had begun to disappear mysteriously from our house. First it was the cracked wash basin we had replaced with a new one and left outside in the backyard. Next it was a broken chair and a stool minus a leg which William my old Man Friday, had put outside the kitchen door.
The loss of these items did not bother us too much ; they were to end up in the dustbin anyway, and whoever the thief was, he was doing us a service-gratis, I argued when William insisted I call in the police. But when a beautiful glass bottle containing a tiny ship got lost from the hall after William had left the front door open to a strange caller, we decided to get serious about catching the thief. William who claimed he was better than any policeman in detective work, took to prowling around the garden at night with a torch, just in case the thief was lurking behind the bushes. He even flashed his torch up onto our jak tree to see if the thief could hide himself in the thick foliage. Things came to a head when William lost his favourite sarong and shirt which he had hung on the clothes line and forgotten to bring inside the house before going to sleep. Working himself upto a rage, he threatened to catch the thief and crush him with his bare hands. "Mama hora allala, mage ekka athata podi koranawa," he kept repeating to us. It was no idle threat I found out when I saw him practising some karate shots on our half blind old dog Socks, who squealed in pain and nearly bit him . He also cut himself a stout stick , sharpened the kitchen knife and kept the ekel broom outside his bed room, and went to sleep armed with a torch and pen knife in case the thief turned up at night. It was early morning when our nocturnal visitor woke us.I had heard a slight rattle of tins in the backyard outside my bedroom but was too sleepy to wake up. For his bad luck the thief had crept up to the kitchen door to help himself to two new chatty pots purposely left outside the door to lure him by William, when he slipped on the soap smeared floor - an ingenious move on William's part to trap the rogue. The sound woke us up but before we were able to run outside, William, beat us to it brandishing his stick, his torch and his pen knife. Seeing the thief trying to raise himself from the floor, our amateur detective tripped him up with one of his best karate shots and he lay supine on the floor begging for mercy. "I'll show you mercy," cried William as he rained blows on the man twice his size with his new found strength. "Nona you can now call the police. I have finished with him," he said looking scornfully at the trembling, badly bruised figure on the floor. I quickly dialled the number I had previously memorised, and before long a policeman was on our doorstep, ready to handcuff the thief and take him to the station. The news of William's brave action spread like bushfire around the neighbourhood. He was everybody's hero and even the small boys who used to taunt him about his in congruous combination of jet black dyed hair and white beard looked at him with a new respect. No wonder now my Man Friday has taken to flexing his non existing muscles and walks around with a swagger,looking ten years younger than his 68 years. He still keeps practising his karate "for a hadissi avasthava". "Lady, didn't I tell you I would catch this thief. You don't have to be afraid when I'm around. I can easily fell a dozen of them with one blow", he reminds me at least a dozen times a day. Nowadays when I hear a rattle of tins outside my window at night, or imagine hearing the sound of a foot fall stealthily walking across the lawn, I just lie in bed and pretend to sleep. I need not be afraid any more. After all William is there to save us. |
|
News | Business | Features
| Editorial | Security Produced by Lake House |
Then it was a couple of rusty aluminium pots and pans which I insisted
he do away with lest we ended up with food poisoning, and which my man
Friday had surreptitiously hidden beneath a pile of rubbish "for an
emergency".
