The Stories of Experience of Stealing Something - Essay Example

Although I live in the United s now, that hasnt always been the case. I was actually born in India, and spent all but the last three years of my life there. From the sixth through the twelfth grade, I went to boarding schools. Most of my time was spent at a school called in NVS Gujrat. However, in the ninth grade everything changed when I was transferred to NVS Rajasthan, a sister school of my own that was in a different province of India. This new school was very different. It was out in the mountains, and big hills shot up on every side of it, a thick green as they rose. Although the school seemed far away from everything, it was only about five kilometers from the nearest town. Every weekend, since we had nothing better to do, I and the thirteen other students who had transferred from NVS Gujrat walked those five kilometers to the town in the morning and walked them back to the school in the evening. One weekend, after we had just come back, one of the other boys smiled and took something out of his pocket. It was a silver keychain, glinting in the dim light of the room. We had seen one just like it at a store in town. He smiled and put it back in his pocket when we clamored to see it, and admitted “I took it from the store, of course.” We were all shocked, and it must have shown on our faces because he laughed delightedly. “But thats stealing!” someone said. “Who will notice a keychain?” he replied, walking to the door and making sure it was shut all the way. He stood with his back against it and took the keychain out again, jangling its fine metal strap. “Its just something to do, to show that youre smarter than they are and can pull it off.” “Isnt it wrong?” He laughed again, this time with scorn. “Nobody gets hurt by something like this.” The next weekend everybody but me stole something as well. They took small things mostly, like keychains or rubber balls. I couldnt make myself do it, because I felt deep down that it just wasnt right to take other peoples things. When we got back to the school, they all laughed at me, calling me a coward and pushing me around the room we all shared. The next weekend we went back to the shop again. This time I didnt dare stand apart. The other boys stole things again, working in the same manner as before. They would call the shopkeeper over and ask him about a certain item, and then when he went to get it their hand would slip out and a small item nearby would make its way into their pocket. I set my eyes on a piece of candy with a bright blue-and-green wrapper. It was just netxt to the register, and should be easy to take, I thought. I walked up to the shopkeeper and put on my best schoolboy voice. “Excuse me, sir.” “Yes, boy? How can I help you?” “Ive heard from the school that you sell pencils and notebooks. Can you show me what you have?” “Of course,” he said, and as he turned to show me where they were I pocketed the candy bar before I followed. It gave me a thrill that didnt go away for the rest of the day, but stayed with me as we walked back to the school. I took the candy out of my pocket and looked at it, not eating it, but just laughing there amidst the tall mountains. The green-and-blue of its wrapper looked like the mountains against the sky. I wasnt even fifteen at the time, so I didnt realize the pain I must have been causing the shopkeeper when I stole his goods. All I knew was that it was easy for me, and I enjoyed doing it with my friends. As time went on, we kept making our weekly visits to the town and stealing things from the store. Now that we were all doing it we made a game of it, a competition. We came up with new ways to distract the shopkeeper and pushed each other to take more risky items. I became addicted to stealing, and took more and more expensive items, moving on from candies and keychains to perfumes and walkmen, and other expensive gifts from a gift shop in the town. Several months had passed since we came to NVS Rajasthan, and nobody in the school knew what we were doing. We were well-behaved and polite at school, so everybody thought we were good kids. When some schoolbooks disappeared from a classroom used by the older boys, nobody even suspected us. Of course we hadnt stolen them, though. We werent so stupid as to misbehave like that where we were well known. At the end of the year, we were all set to go back to NVS Gujrat. Then the older boys called one of our group out to the back of the school. They had thin sticks and they whipped him, demanding that he tell them what he had done with the books. From around the corner of the building, the rest of us could hear the swish-crack, swish-crack of the sticks and the loud choking cries of the boy as they whipped him. “I never did—Ah!” he cried. “All Ive—ah!—stolen is things from the store in town!” The laughed and whipped him some more. “Thief!” they shouted. “Thief!” After that they called the rest of us out, calling us thieves and demanding that we tell them where their books were. By the time it was my turn they didnt even ask about the books that had been stolen. They laughed as they beat me, and nothing I shouted or cried out could make them stop. Afterward, they threatened to tell the teachers about our weekend trips if we didnt do everything they said. We knew we would be expelled if they did, so we had no choice. A few days later they actually found the books in one of their own bags. The boy had taken them and was going to sell them in the town for money. Even though they knew we hadnt stolen their books, they still treated us like thieves. They still knew our secret and looked down on us, even though before they had always thought we were good kids. This made me think about what it was we were really doing. If something so small as taking keychains from a local town store made them think I was a thief, what would they think if they knew what I had really been taking—perfume and portable radios and other expensive things? I decided then and there that I would never even touch something if it didnt belong to me. Time went by, and we left that school in among the green mountains. We went back to NVS Gujrat and then a few years later graduated the school and went our own ways. I came to America, and Ive always stuck by the promise I made to myself. Last year I was tested when I found a brand new iPhone just sitting by itself outside of a Dunkin Donuts. Instead of pocketing it, as I might once have done, I called the owner and arranged to drop it by his house. He tried to offer me money, but I refused. “Its okay,” I told him. “Im just happy to know you got your phone back.” He had taken out his walled, but hesitated as I said this. “Well, if youre sure. Its good to know there are still honest people in the world.” The pleasure of hearing that from a total stranger stayed with me a lot longer than the thrill of stealing ever did. I knew I had matured and grown, and now I can look back on my childhood habit of stealing with sadness and regret. One day, I tell myself, Ill go back to the town near NVS Rajasthan and apologize to the shopkeeper, if he is still there, and buy some of his goods. Read More