I remember the first time it happened to me. The initial reaction was shock, of course. Then came a surge of mixed emotions. Pain, anger, frustration, disgust and disbelieve. How could this happen to me?? I understood then what thousands and millions of people must have felt when it happened to them and I cursed and swore like a mad woman. Unfortunately, my sister fell victim too recent. She sends me and message early in the morning that read,
“I am marking this day of my life. My newly bought bicycle has been stolen, the thief took the body and left the wheel with the lock. I am heart broken. He should have taken the whole bike.”
I tried to make her feel better by sending her consoling words. She replied,
“The feeling was like having my hand being chopped off forcefully because they wanted your gold chain. It’s very sad you know. They should take the bike. It’s a sad scene to see the one beautiful wheel left.”
Yes. My sister and I are officially victims of thievery.
My experience was with my shoes. I had just moved from a private house to a housing estate the first time in my life so I left my shoes outside the house as I always do. Being the naïve girl that I was, I didn’t believe that people would actually steal a pair of old shoe. I was utterly heart broken. They were my favorite pair of heels that I bought in KL. They never gave me blisters even from day one and they were as comfortable as they were beautiful. After the initial shock, I burst into a fury of swearing and shouting. Angry at the person, at the world that created such an evil person and at my own naiveté. I sincerely hoped that whoever wore my heels would have their feet rot away.
As I mourned for my lost heels, I suddenly remembered what my dad told me years ago. An old man came into my dad’s bakery, took a bun and left without paying. I wanted to give chase, but dad was telling me to let go. He said, if the person was so poor to the point that he can’t even afford an 80cents bun, then we might as well just let him have it. The memory comforted me. I thought, if the person had to steal a pair of worn out shoes, then I might as well let him have it.
Even today I think of my heels. They are still the best, but what’s done is done. I learnt to be more careful with my possessions now. But my sister is not someone who would go quietly into the night. True to her style, she went to all sorts of places to make her displeasure known, police post, town council and probably the housing development board. Well, as least the authorities now know that there are thieves around the area to look out for. She refused to remove the single tire still tied to the bicycle stand; claiming that it would act as a warning to others who park their bicycle there.
Yesterday she talked about her beloved bicycle again, so I suggested that she get another one. She huffed that she will never get another bike again. Well, whatever works for you. Right?
“I am marking this day of my life. My newly bought bicycle has been stolen, the thief took the body and left the wheel with the lock. I am heart broken. He should have taken the whole bike.”
I tried to make her feel better by sending her consoling words. She replied,
“The feeling was like having my hand being chopped off forcefully because they wanted your gold chain. It’s very sad you know. They should take the bike. It’s a sad scene to see the one beautiful wheel left.”
Yes. My sister and I are officially victims of thievery.
My experience was with my shoes. I had just moved from a private house to a housing estate the first time in my life so I left my shoes outside the house as I always do. Being the naïve girl that I was, I didn’t believe that people would actually steal a pair of old shoe. I was utterly heart broken. They were my favorite pair of heels that I bought in KL. They never gave me blisters even from day one and they were as comfortable as they were beautiful. After the initial shock, I burst into a fury of swearing and shouting. Angry at the person, at the world that created such an evil person and at my own naiveté. I sincerely hoped that whoever wore my heels would have their feet rot away.
As I mourned for my lost heels, I suddenly remembered what my dad told me years ago. An old man came into my dad’s bakery, took a bun and left without paying. I wanted to give chase, but dad was telling me to let go. He said, if the person was so poor to the point that he can’t even afford an 80cents bun, then we might as well just let him have it. The memory comforted me. I thought, if the person had to steal a pair of worn out shoes, then I might as well let him have it.
Even today I think of my heels. They are still the best, but what’s done is done. I learnt to be more careful with my possessions now. But my sister is not someone who would go quietly into the night. True to her style, she went to all sorts of places to make her displeasure known, police post, town council and probably the housing development board. Well, as least the authorities now know that there are thieves around the area to look out for. She refused to remove the single tire still tied to the bicycle stand; claiming that it would act as a warning to others who park their bicycle there.
Yesterday she talked about her beloved bicycle again, so I suggested that she get another one. She huffed that she will never get another bike again. Well, whatever works for you. Right?
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