Memoir of an Hour

The last one hour had been an emotional roller coaster for me.

After the T.A duty, I headed off to the library. I returned a few books along with a fine of Rs 42 after which, I kept my handbag on the rack and went in search of other books. Time flew, browsing, glancing , skimming and scanning books.
Seeing 2:15 on the large clock, I decided to leave for lunch.

To my shock and surprise, I found my handbag missing from the rack. ATM cards, cell phone, books and room key. That's all it had. But the realisation that my existence had come to a dead stop without these objects was heartbreaking and beyond imagination for someone who hadn't had a similar experience in her entire life.
The library staff began searching the rack, while I racked my brain with questions.

We marched to the CCTV room situated in a building opposite  the library to investigate the crime. The scene inside the large room reminded me of some chapter from George Orwell's 1984. Men were engrossed in screens of different sizes, scanning human movements. With my entrance, all glances turned away from the boring screens. After specifying the time during which I entered the library and found the bag missing, we began the vigilant search. After minutes of fast forwarding and rewinding, I spotted my jute bag sitting comfortably on the top rack of the small shelf. The cream jute handbag stood out among the hoard of black backpacks. Then began the intensive search. Ten to fifteen minutes had passed during which people entered and left, deposited and picked up their bags. All this while, my bag sat there unperturbed.  Fast- forwarding the clips a bit, we arrived at the eagerly awaited moment . 
The moment where the bag vanishes out of  sight.

The next few minutes  were the most exciting period in my life, monitoring and scrutinizing each hand movement nearing my handbag. The fear and insecurity that were bugging me till then vanished into I don't know where, as I closely observed each person approaching my bag. Excitement ran through all of us who surrounded the big CCTV screen. 

With unflagging attention, we watched a lean, innocent looking boy, nonchalantly taking away the bag by its sling and proceeding into the library.
What shocked all of us was the fact that he was a library staff. Suddenly men who stood next to me started whispering  while we ( I along with the security man and the cctv in-charge) made a beeline for the library.

We bumped into the boy in the library and he was soon questioned about the whereabouts of the missing bag. He became  upset and worried, and gestured that he never took any bag. I looked towards the librarian's glass cabin, preparing myself to narrate the whole episode to him.

 Just then, I saw my bag, retaining the same composure, sitting on the wall table inside the librarian's cabin! I was exhilarated at the sight of my bag and expressed my happiness with my fellow investigators. The person accused of the crime stood there helpless and embarrassed for having mistaken a ladies' handbag for the librarian's bag!

We all had a hearty laugh, after which I thanked the investigation team for their support and help. They were a little amazed at my reaction to the whole event. I smiled at the boy whose face, which had by then turned pink, was almost hidden in his hands.

At times, our insecure feelings or helplessness conglomerate into something larger. At other times, it melts away like a dew, seeing the same helplessness sparkling in another individual's eyes.

 Who would have imagined that a presumably good and thoughtful act of carrying the librarian's bag would  turn out to be an act of theft !

It was heartening to watch so many emotions ( fear, helplessness and above all, shock!) cross the tired face of the boy as I slowly closed the library door.