The Thief by Ruskin Bond


I WAS STILL A thief when I met Arun and though I was only fifteen I was an experienced and fairly successful hand.

Arun was watching the wrestlers when I approached him. He was about twenty, a tall, lean fellow, and he looked kind and simple enough for my purpose. I hadn’t  had much luck of late and thought I might be able to get into this young person’s confidence. He seemed quite fascinated by the wrestling. Two well-oiled men slid about in the soft mud, grunting and slapping their thighs. When I drew Arun into conversation he didn’t seem to realize I was a stranger.
‘You look like a wrestler yourself  I said.

‘So do you,’ he replied, which put me out of my stride for a moment because at the time I was rather thin and bony and not very impressive physically.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I wrestle sometimes.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Deepak,’ I lied.

Deepak was about my fifth name. I had earlier called myself Ranbir, Sudhir, Trilok and Surinder.  After this preliminary exchange Arun confined himself to comments on the match, and I didn’t have much to say. After a while he walked away from the crowd of spectators. I followed him.

‘Hallo’ he said. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

I gave him my most appealing smile. ‘I want to work for you” I said.

He didn’t stop walking. ‘And what makes you think I want someone to work for me?’

‘Well”  I said, ‘I’ve been wandering about all day looking for the best person to work for. When I saw you I knew that no one else had a chance.’

‘You flatter me” he said.

‘That’s all right.’

‘But you can’t work for me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can’t pay you.’

I thought that over for a minute. Perhaps I had misjudged my man.

‘Can you feed me?’ I asked.

‘Can you cook?’ he countered.

“I can cook” I lied.

‘If you can cook”  he said, Til feed you.’

He took me to his room and told me I could sleep in the verandah. But I was nearly back on the street that night. The meal I cooked must have been pretty awful because Arun gave it to the neighbour’s cat and told me to be off. But I  just hung around smiling in my most appealing way and then he couldn’t help laughing. He sat down on the bed and laughed for a full five minutes and later patted me on the head and said, never mind, he’d teach me to cook in the morning.  Not only did he teach me to cook but he taught me to write my name and his and said he would soon teach me to write whole sentences and add money on paper  when you didn’t have any in your pocket!

It was quite pleasant working for Arun. I made the tea in the morning and later went out shopping. I would take my time buying the day’s supplies and make a profit of about twenty-five paise a day. I would tell Arun that rice was fifty-six paise a pound (it generally was), but I would get it at fifty paise a pound. I think he knew I made a little this way but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t giving me a regular wage.
I was really grateful to Arun for teaching me to write. I knew that once I could write like an educated man there would be no limit to what I could achieve. It might even be an incentive to be honest.
Arun made money by fits and starts. He would be borrowing one week, lending the next. He would keep worrying about his  next cheque but as soon as it arrived he would go out and celebrate lavishly.
One evening he came home with a wad of notes and at night I saw him tuck the bundles under his mattress at the head of the bed.I had been working for Arun for nearly a fortnight and, apart from the shopping hadn’t done much to exploit him. I had every opportunity for doing so. I had a key to the front door which meant I had access to the room whenever Arun was out. He was the most trusting person I had ever met. And that was why I couldn’t make up my mind to rob him. It’s easy to rob a greedy man because he deserves to be robbed. It’s easy to rob a rich man because he can afford to be robbed. But it’s difficult to rob a poor man, even one who really doesn’t care if he’s robbed. A rich man or a greedy man or a careful man wouldn’t keep his money under a pillow or mattress. He’d lock it up in a safe place. Arun had put his money where it would be child’s play for me to remove it without his knowledge.
It’s time I did some real work, I told myself. I’m getting out of practice …. If I don’t take the money, he’ll only waste it on his friends …. He doesn’t even pay me ….

Arun was asleep. Moonlight came in from the veranda and fell across the bed. I sat up on the floor, my blanket wrapped round me, considering the situation. There was quite a lot of money in that wad and if I took it I would have to leave town—I might make the 10.30 express to Amritsar ….

Slipping out of the blanket, I crept on all four through the door and up to the bed and peeped at Arun. He was sleeping peacefully with a soft and easy breathing. His face was clear and unlined. Even I had more markings on my face, though mine were mostly scars.

My hand took on an identity of its own as it slid around under the mattress,the fingers searching for the notes. They found them and I drew them out  without a crackle.

Arun sighed in his sleep and turned on his side, towards me. My free hand was resting on the bed and his hair touched my fingers.  I was frightened when his hair touched my fingers, and crawled quickly and quietly out of the room. When I was in the street I began to run. I ran down the bazaar road to the station. The shops were all closed but a few lights were on in the upper windows. I had the notes at my waist, held there by the string of my pyjamas. I felt I had to stop and count the notes though I knew it might make me late for the train. It was already 10.20 by the clock tower. I slowed down to a walk and my fingers flicked through the notes. There were about a hundred rupees in fives. A good haul. I could live like a prince for a month or two.

When I reached the station I did not stop at the ticket office (I had neverbought a ticket in my life) but dashed straight onto the platform. The Amritsar  Express was just moving out. It was moving slowly enough for me to be able to jump on the footboard of one of the carriages but I hesitated for some urgent, unexplainable reason.
I hesitated long enough for the train to leave without me.

When it had gone and the noise and busy confusion of the platform had subsided, I found myself standing alone on the deserted platform. The knowledge that I had a hundred stolen rupees in my pyjamas only increased my feeling of isolation and loneliness. I had no idea where to spend the night.   I had never kept any friends because sometimes friends can be one’s undoing. I didn’t want to make myself conspicuous by staying at a hotel. And the only person I knew really well in town was the person I had robbed!

Leaving the station, I walked slowly through the bazaar keeping to dark, deserted alleys. I kept thinking of Arun. He would still be asleep, blissfully unaware of his loss.
I have made a study of men’s faces when they have lost something of material value. The greedy man shows panic, the rich man shows anger, the poor man shows fear. But I knew that neither panic nor anger nor fear would show on Arun’s face when he discovered the theft; only a terrible sadness not for the loss of he money but for my having betrayed his trust. I found myself on the maidan and sat down on a bench with my feet tucked up under my haunches. The night was a little cold and I regretted not having brought Arun’s blanket along. A light drizzle added to my discomfort. Soon it was raining heavily. My shirt and pyjamas stuck to my skin and a cold wind brought the rain whipping across my face. I told myself that sleeping on a bench was something I should have been used to by now but the veranda had softened me.

I walked back to the bazaar and sat down on the steps of a closed shop. A few vagrants lay beside me, rolled up tight in thin blankets. The clock showed midnight. I felt for the notes. They were still with me but had lost their crispness and were damp with rainwater.  Arun’s money. In the morning he would probably have given me a rupee to go to the pictures but now I had it all. No more cooking his meals, running to the bazaar, or learning to write whole sentences. Whole sentences ….

They were something I had forgotten in the excitement of a hundred rupees. Whole sentences, I knew, could one day bring me more than a hundred rupees. It was a simple matter to steal (and sometimes just as simple to be caught) but to be a really big man, a wise and successful man, that was something. I should go back to Arun, I told myself, if only to learn how to write.

Perhaps it was also concern for Arun that drew me back. A sense of sympathy is one of my weaknesses, and through hesitation over a theft I had often been 0caught. A successful thief must be pitiless. I was fond of Arun. My affection for him, my sense of sympathy, but most of all my desire to write whole sentences, drew me back to the room.

I hurried back to the room extremely nervous, for it is easier to steal something than to return it undetected. If I was caught beside the bed now, with the money in my hand, or with my hand under the mattress, there could be only one explanation: that I was actually stealing. If Arun woke up I would be lost.

I opened the door clumsily and stood in the doorway in clouded moonlight. Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the room. Arun was still asleep. I went on all fours again and crept noiselessly to the head of the bed. My hand came up with the notes. I felt his breath on my fingers. I was fascinated by his tranquil features and easy breathing and remained motionless for a minute. Then my hand explored the mattress, found the edge, slipped under it with the notes.

I awoke late next morning to find that Arun had already made the tea. I found it difficult to face him in the harsh light of day. His hand was stretched out towards me. There was a five-rupee note between his fingers. My heart sank.  T made some money yesterday” he said. ‘Now you’ll get paid regularly.’ My spirit rose as rapidly as it had fallen. I congratulated myself on having returned the money.
But when I took the note, I realized that he knew everything. The note was still wet from last night’s rain.

‘Today I’ll teach you to write a little more than your name” he said.

He knew but neither his lips nor his eyes said anything about their knowing.

I smiled at Arun in my most appealing way. And the smile came by itself, without my knowing it.

RUSKIN BOND

  1. #1 by mahesh_vma on March 29, 2011 - 10:49 pm

    i like this story… very much and it’s in my degree syllabus…

    • #2 by Gurleen on October 5, 2012 - 7:50 pm

      What a story. WOW!

      • #3 by ROHAN on June 12, 2013 - 2:29 pm

        WHAT A NICE STORY I LIKE IT

    • #4 by kp on November 18, 2012 - 3:18 pm

      its good

    • #5 by manini das on August 13, 2013 - 5:52 pm

      really a nice story. This story shows the humanity.

  2. #6 by Sumit Maiti on July 15, 2011 - 8:34 am

    Its really a great short story…..and it is also in my degree syllabus

  3. #7 by Deepti on July 31, 2011 - 12:00 am

    v .nycc……

  4. #8 by arshad on September 18, 2011 - 7:02 pm

    it was an awesome short story,i love it :D

  5. #9 by Joseph Jolly Paul on September 18, 2011 - 10:38 pm

    this shows the strength of the language, and the quality of the writer

  6. #10 by Ashish Pandey on September 20, 2011 - 11:51 pm

    i read this story more then 100 of time

  7. #11 by Hari vansh shardul on December 18, 2011 - 3:27 pm

    Dis is my most favourite, loved short story. Heartiest thanx to Ruskin Bond.

  8. #12 by Vibhuti on December 23, 2011 - 4:24 pm

    Thanku ruskin for such a good story which shows the power of trust

  9. #13 by AKANSHA SANWAL on January 5, 2012 - 2:53 pm

    a great writer’s great work with the message ” trust can do that what rage cannot”.
    loved it…

  10. #14 by sana sherfudheen on January 9, 2012 - 10:26 pm

    Awesum…!!!….vry interesting

  11. #15 by piyush patil on January 28, 2012 - 11:51 am

    very touching

  12. #16 by nandan on February 5, 2012 - 7:38 pm

    it was very touching right to the heart i love it

  13. #17 by The Passionate Voyager on February 7, 2012 - 1:17 am

    If you want more stories of Ruskin Bond, please reply/request. I would be glad to put it in the blog.

    • #18 by Laveena Satish on May 20, 2012 - 8:30 pm

      hi, if u can help me, plz put some more stories of ruskin bond in the blog as i m very much needy for stories right now and i dont have dat much of technical know-how… as i m confused, so if u can help me, i’ll be thankful to uuu….

  14. #20 by Ashish Garg on March 1, 2012 - 5:13 pm

    I like this story very much.

  15. #21 by SHivani minz on March 13, 2012 - 12:00 pm

    thanx fr da story !

  16. #22 by SAM on April 25, 2012 - 6:23 pm

    Really 1derful story

  17. #23 by kalpit on May 30, 2012 - 9:15 pm

    this story is wonderful i loved it

  18. #24 by JBP on June 1, 2012 - 12:28 pm

    there r no words in english to describe this story!

  19. #25 by peter on June 1, 2012 - 3:34 pm

    good site user friendly
    agreat story

  20. #26 by Ronald on June 8, 2012 - 10:34 am

    Very moving story…..!!!

  21. #27 by avantika nautiyal on June 27, 2012 - 4:15 pm

    that was a heart touching story

  22. #28 by Tanu shri on July 13, 2012 - 5:04 pm

    HEY IT IS IN MY COURSE

  23. #29 by harshit on July 14, 2012 - 7:22 pm

    good story

  24. #30 by hemant on July 24, 2012 - 7:28 pm

    it’s good story which is shows trust is like god

  25. #31 by lamiya on July 31, 2012 - 8:56 pm

    i loved this story. it shows the power of the writer.

  26. #32 by sara on August 4, 2012 - 11:35 pm

    it is assawam and i like it guyzzzz…….

  27. #33 by ananya bhattacharyya on August 15, 2012 - 8:49 pm

    a hrt tou6ing story

  28. #34 by radhika on August 18, 2012 - 10:25 am

    tremendous

  29. #35 by sudhanshu kumar on September 1, 2012 - 4:20 am

    very intresting and emosional story.

  30. #36 by Akshatha.M.Rao on September 3, 2012 - 5:09 pm

    really really very good story

  31. #37 by safeela on October 1, 2012 - 3:38 pm

    It is a very nice story i have in my 8th standard

  32. #38 by Nidhi Pareek on November 19, 2012 - 9:36 am

    it’s a good and heart touching story

  33. #39 by Rimjhim Nayak on November 24, 2012 - 7:00 pm

    What is a story? WOW! I loved this story.

  34. #40 by Rimjhim Nayak on November 24, 2012 - 7:02 pm

    What a story? WOW! I loved it.

  35. #41 by JAYANTA ROY on December 7, 2012 - 11:34 pm

    It’s really awesome…:*

  36. #42 by Lakshit on December 28, 2012 - 10:52 am

    Searcjing for it everywhere. Finally found this story for my assignment
    Thanks.

  37. #43 by The Passionate Voyager on December 29, 2012 - 1:15 pm

    You are welcome

  38. #44 by kisholoy on January 3, 2013 - 9:30 pm

    very good story

  39. #45 by Prabakaran on January 8, 2013 - 9:58 pm

    Heart touching story

  40. #46 by Tejas on February 3, 2013 - 5:08 pm

    Want to become a thief,like Ruskin Bond.

  41. #47 by ujjwal on February 5, 2013 - 1:33 pm

    wonderful story……Ruskin stories r not just stories but mixture of human thoughts, sentiments, feelings, love, affection and understandings……
    He is the best.

  42. #48 by Toshi on February 18, 2013 - 10:07 am

    Its a nice story…

  43. #49 by jitender kamboj on February 18, 2013 - 11:43 am

    Be A Man………nd alwys hv faith myself….

  44. #50 by Rajiv on February 20, 2013 - 10:36 am

    Nice story… :D

  45. #51 by Purbak Roy Choudhury on March 18, 2013 - 3:06 pm

    really.. it’s a great story..

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  83. #90 by Abhishek Mishra on June 11, 2013 - 2:22 pm

    This story is really very intresting and heart touching .I study in S.J.S Public School,Gauringanj in class 7th… And this story is written on my Litrature book.
    Thanks Rusking bond for ur intresting story………

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  86. #93 by Arvind Kumar on June 14, 2013 - 10:54 am

    Ever since I acquired some knowledge of English and its literature I have been nurturing a longing for reading Ruskin Bond; on this site I am finding this rare opportunity to read the short stories by the great literatteur, sort of a saint, a hermit. I like all his creations/ compositions. May God this great writer win the Nobel Prize: he really deserves a Nobel Prize. Arvin Kumaru

  87. #94 by raghul on June 26, 2013 - 6:57 pm

    osm story i am gonna use this story for my english literature

  88. #95 by Ajay kumar singh on August 18, 2013 - 3:08 pm

    What a great story?arun is a great role made by ruskin bond.

  89. #96 by yashaswini on October 6, 2013 - 8:21 pm

    quite a touching story….it leaves a great impact on the reader….

  90. #97 by ayush singh on October 11, 2013 - 12:11 pm

    Loved it…Ending was so touching…its so simple ,real and indian..this is especiality of Ruskin’s writings….

  91. #98 by Sourav Bardhan on October 27, 2013 - 8:57 pm

    really inspiring

  92. #99 by aditi on November 27, 2013 - 3:23 pm

    dint at all like it

  93. #100 by PRITI on December 4, 2013 - 9:15 pm

    good story

  94. #101 by surya on January 3, 2014 - 8:23 pm

    has a very heart touching values…………

  95. #102 by harish sagar on January 26, 2014 - 12:30 pm

    it is very nice story

  96. #103 by a.n. jagannadhasarma on February 7, 2014 - 8:46 pm

    awesome story.
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  97. #104 by kalaivani on May 1, 2014 - 12:49 pm

    awesom to the core

  98. #105 by Ashwin Rachha on May 3, 2014 - 7:20 pm

    Wowie! Ruskin Bond has got the ability to make the best out of waste. The idea being too simple to write, Rusky made it a Masterpiece!

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