Of human bondage

It was in the Gamla Stan, the old town of Stockholm; the realisation has not really hit me yet. I had lost all my belongings- my luggage was at the hotel, but my purse was lost – all of it gone! Just like that – my money, travellers cheques, passport, insurance papers, credit card, debit card, Eurail pass. I was inside a little curio shop on my last leg of travel in Stockholm city. In an hour, I should be off to catch the ship back to Finland. And when I decided to pay the shop guy for the little statue of the Viking, I suddenly realised something was a miss. I had my little purse inside my pockets, which had about 20 euros and 60 kroners. But the rest of my money and papers were in a bigger purse, which I had been carrying in my hand. It was not to be seen. I thought that may be I left it around on the counter or somewhere in the shop and started looking for it. It was not there. I could not believe it, this couldn’t have happened to me! (How stupid, of course, it happens to so many people every day, just that we don’t imagine ourselves in such situations ever). I still thought I would find it in a few minutes, like many other times when you just misplace things, besides this is Sweden, and one doesn’t expect pick pockets here. The shop keeper looked around, but could not find it anywhere. He just shrugged and asked, “was there any money in it?’ I nodded a yes. “Gone, someone must have stolen it.’ He replied non-chalantly.

I had to do something. I could not be stranded like this, without money or passport. I was more worried about having lost my passport. It was then I decided to do a bit of hysterical act. I had to. This is no Indian town where people might offer you shelter, if you are stranded. This is a white man’s country, where no one bothers about your misfortune, except for offering sympathy may be. I shouted out, “I have to call the police!” I didn’t have much hope in that action, except that if the fellow who stole the purse was in the shop, he might just give it up out of fear. The shop keeper, a Cyrian guy, seemed to hesitate on that. Just then someone walked into the shop and saw the commotion. He began to look for the number of Police and then spoke to me, “Where did you lose it?” “Must have been in the shop, because I had it with me at the time I entered this place! I have to go back to Finland, my ship leaves at 7pm, and I have no passport with me!” My Good Samaritan said, “Where is your baggage?” “At the hotel.” “Please come with me, we will pick up your baggage and then see that you catch your ship”. I was not sure if I should go with this stranger, but I had no other hope. As we sat in the car, the Good Samaritan asked me, “where do you come from?’ I said India. He said, ‘I am Nadeem and this is Asad, my colleague, we come from Pakistan’. My first reaction was, “Oh no, may be I should not trust this person. He could be connected to some racketeer or some such thing”. But since I had not other option, I just got into his car. While driving out he said, “I have a friend in the Swedish police, we can take his help”. At this I felt a bit reassured that our man was a genuine citizen. When we called up the friend, he advised that I make a formal report at the station. I asked him, “Should we look around in the Old town?” Nadeem replied, “No, there is no chance of finding it.’ I was perplexed and could not stop cursing myself for being so careless. “Don’t feel bad about this. These things happen. I had lost my passport and bags in London. And it happened not once, but twice. But in no time, I could get myself a duplicate passport. The first thing is to reach the Viking Line (the shipping company)”. Nadeem reassured me as he helped with my baggage at the hotel. On reaching the Viking Line’s office, I was told that I cannot travel without my passport.

But, the lady at the counter told me she can postpone my ticket without extra charges until I could get my passport and gave me the 24 hour helpline number of the Indian embassy. The official of the embassy said that they could give me an emergency certificate for 140 kroners or a duplicate passport for 1290 kroners, but it had to wait till Monday, since it was Saturday and the embassy did not work during weekends. I thought that may be the embassy official would help fix my problems, waive the fees or at least find out if I need some place to stay till Monday. Nothing of the sort happened. “Just bring your passport photocopy with you along with the police report and you can get a duplicate immediately.” But I had no photocopy of my Passport. “Okay! Bring four photographs and your police report; we will trace your passport with the date of issue”. I nodded a yes, but, I had no money. Worse, my return flight from Helsinki to Frankfurt was scheduled for Monday. What a mess! The Viking Line officer changed my ticket to Monday night, without any charges. That was a blessing. I still had to change my flight tickets from Monday to a later date, which would cost me 50 euros and then my stay for the two nights, and of course my passport expenses. It would cost me quite a bit. Nadeem said, “I will pay for you, don’t worry!’ I said I would ask my friend in Finland to send him the money by transfer and asked him if I could use his phone to call my friend Kirsi. She offered to transfer the money to Nadeem’s account right away and asked me his account number. Nadeem said, “we’ll see later’. Kirsi was worried, “Where will you stay, I hope you are not going to be sleeping on the streets”. I told her that Nadeem offered to find a place for me to stay until I leave Stockholm.

I had to reconcile to the fact that I could not be on my ship back to Finland. I was to stop over in Germany for a few days and then return to Hyderabad. I will now have to cancel my German trip and head back home. Not that I had much appetite for any more holiday after all that muddle. On our way back from the Viking Line, Nadeem said, “I am sorry, but we will have to take a detour to my friends place. I had to make some deliveries to him. I run a printing company. Also, you could stay at his house for the time being. He lives there with his daughter. And though it is a bit out of town, you will be comfortable. I could take you to my house, but, my house is full of relatives who arrived for the Ramadan”. At his friend’s place, I sat in the car, while some talk went on between the two friends. Then Nadeem took me to the Police Station. “You please lodge your complaint here, while I go and attend my errands. It will take you some time. Once you finish your work, take the tube from Radhuset station to Sundbybergs. Once you reach there give me a call, I shall come and pick you up”. He asked me if I had any money with me, I had a few kroners left. I wanted to keep the euros for my bus fare from Turku to Tampere in Finland. Nadeem gave me some money and left. Though I was feeling a bit lost, I walked into the police station.

I took my queue number and waited my turn. It took some time. By the time I finished it was past ten thirty. The police man James asked me for a telephone number, just in case, they find my things. I gave my friend Kirsi’s number and also Nadeem’s. I could not help remark to the policeman, “You know, the world calls us die-hard enemies. But here is a Pakistani guy helping an Indian. May be its not so black and white”. The Policeman could not help smiling either. I took my police report copies and then walked towards the Radhuset station. There was an African man behind the ticket counter. As he issued me the tickets, he asked me suddenly, “are you from India?’ I nodded. “Which place?’ “Hyderabad”, I replied. “How wonderful, I am so glad to meet someone from Hyderabad”, the man beamed. He told me he was from Somalia and had been to college in Hyderabad. He was Heibe Hussain. He asked me about my trip, I told him the story of my lost passport. Heibe said, “But I am sure you can reclaim your travellers’ cheques. Let me find out for you. I have a friend who works in a bank”. As we talked, there were other passengers waiting in the queue. Heibe offered a chair inside the ticket counter. After dispatching his customers, he called his friend, who said he would return the call and asked us to wait. I asked Heibe if I could use the phone. “Use my mobile, because here these are official phones”. I informed Nadeem that Heibe was trying to help me and will be leaving in half hour. “Just give me a call as you are about to leave, so that I can be there at the station”, after giving me directions on which way to get out of the station, he hung up. Heibe’s friend called and gave the Nordea Banks’ number. But it being a Saturday, there had been no response. “Never mind Heibe, I will call them tomorrow or on Monday, I don’t wish to get any more delayed”. Heibe gave his phone once again to inform Nadeem about my arrival. “The next train is in six minutes, you take that and you will reach in ten minutes after that. Wish you good luck and if you need any help, do let me know, I am here”. Thanking him, I rushed to catch the train. I was at Sundbyberg station and got out as directed by Nadeem. It was past midnight. I looked around there weren’t many people around. A couple of men who looked fishy were hanging out at the parking area outside the station. I thought, “No sign of Nadeem. Guess he decided he didn’t wish to have unwanted botheration”. Just then, I heard a car horn. It was standing on the roadside just outside the station parking. It was Nadeem with his daughter.

Before we started out, he asked his daughter to pray. “Would you mind staying at my office, it is not very comfortable, but it is safe. My friend is staying alone in his place, and I don’t wish to leave you there. I could take you to my home, but I have a lot of relatives at home from London, who have come down for the Ramadan”. I thanked him, “As long as I have a place to stay indoors and it is safe, it is fine. It is very kind of you to take so much trouble and offer to help me”. He took me to a small store and asked me to buy whatever food I like.

His office was close to the subway station and the office itself was inside the basement of a building. It was a slightly dingy place, since it was a printing press. Nadeem made his living printing T-Shirts. There was a little room they used for making coffee and snacks. That was to be my place of stay for the time being. “I will come tomorrow and we could go to the airport to change your tickets”. If you need anything call me up. So saying, he left. It was a bit odd, to be inside a huge basement all by myself. I of course could not sleep for a long, long time. The events of the evening kept coming back to haunt me. And I still could not believe it has happened; cursing fate, and God and myself too, ranting for half the night, some where I fell asleep. I woke up and didn’t know what time of the day it was. Since I never had the habit of wearing a watch and I didn’t carry my mobile. I had to get out of the basement, climb two stairs up and look outside the main door…it was light but there was nobody on the streets. I guessed it must be some 7 in the morning. I went back downstairs and slept again. This time I got up and got ready ate a bit of cold sandwich from the fridge and went outside to the store opposite the building. It was called Seven eleven. I could browse the net and have coffee. I called up Nadeem, there was no response. After a second call, he responded, ‘Would you be coming here?’ “No, I can’t come today; I have to attend to folks at home’. I couldn’t tell him that he promised to take me to help me change my tickets. I counted my money; I had about 100 kroners from the money Nadeem gave me the previous night. At the police station he said he would give me some more money, but later in the night he forgot about it and I couldn’t mention it either. I had to go to the airport to change my tickets from Helsinki to Frankfurt. Since my flight was scheduled for the Monday night. And even if I do get my papers on time, I will still not reach Finland until Tuesday morning. I had to change my tickets on that day, and didn’t know what to do and called up Kirsi. She told me to ask the Airlines to charge her account. And so with that confidence, I walked into the Tube station and as I was going to take the tickets, I asked the girl behind the counter, the total cost of my travel to and from the Airport, and directions on how to get there, since it being a Sunday, the Airlines office at the Airport was the only one open. As she gave me directions she asked me if I was from India. I said yes and she smiled. Meena I think her name was, said her parents came from Madras and were settled in Malaysia. She had come to Sweden looking for work and has been there for sometime. I was asking her about the tickets to the Airport and return – in Stockholm public transport one could change any number of trains or buses within one hour on a single ticket of Ten kroners. Meena said, “It will take you at least an hour and a half to get to the Airport. It is 12 noon now, I will issue the ticket with 12.30 on it. So that will give you enough time to get you to the Airport on time”. I thanked her for her kindness and changing two trains and one bus I reached the Stockholm Airport which was some 40 miles out of the city. At the airport finding the Lufthansa counter was easy enough. I told the man at the counter my problem and showed him the Police Report. He said, “I will change your tickets, and say it on the ticket, that you pay the change fee 50 euros, before boarding the flight at Helsinki”. He asked me if I didn’t wish to stop over in Germany. I said, no, I had no stomach for anymore travel. Taking my changed ticket copy, I walked around the airport listlessly. There was no point in going back immediately, what was I going to do anyways. I was hungry, but when I counted the money, I only had some 90 kroners. I would need about 10 kroners to go back to Sundbybergs and then some 20 to 30 kroners for my photos, not knowing whether Nadeem would keep his promise of help or not, I spoke to the man at the Indian Embassy and told him that my friend Kirsi will transfer the money to the Embassy account from Finland. To which he had agreed. So, I could not afford to spend too much money on things like food. I wished that Nadeem had given a little more money. Feeling indebted already, I could not ask him for more the previous night. Besides, he had said, he would come with me to the Airport for changing my tickets, so I didn’t really imagine I would need much.

The man at the ticket counter told me that I could get my pictures done with the automatic machines. I went looking for one, but I found out that it didn’t accept coins, only asked for credit card. My credit card too was in the lost purse! It was lunch time; I looked around at the shops in the airport. There was so much there, but I could not afford to buy anything. After walking around listlessly, one of the workers at the airport told me I could go to the nearby police station and they would take photographs on request. I went there taking the free airport shuttle bus. It took a lot of effort to climb the stairs to the first floor. When my turn came about, the policewoman behind the desk told me that they can pictures only for Swedish Nationals. I told them the situation and looking at my pathetic face, the woman took my picture. It looked awful as most polaroids do. But nevertheless I did have a photo in hand. I offered to pay for it and she waved it off, saying no need. Walking out of the police station, I went back to the bus stop to wait for the bus. The shuttle took me to the main train station. Once again I had to be back at Sundbybergs within the two hour time. I breathed a sigh of relief as the bus pulled into the train station just in time to catch the metro back to Stockholm. But the interim train took some time to come. My heart beat fast, if I don’t catch this train in the next ten minutes, I will have to shell out another 10 kroner. Luckily the train pulled in and just a couple of minutes before my two hours could expire, I walked out of Sundbybergs. It was nearly 5pm. My stomach rumbled and I didn’t feel like going back to my dungeon. On seeing 7/11 with its advertisement for hot pasta, my mouth watered. Since I saved the money from the photos, I can afford to eat some hot food. So, I went in and asked that guy for the 10 kroner pasta. He said, “You can take more if you like”. “No, just give me that offer of yours - pasta for 10 kroner”. “You can take as much as you want”. That man told me in broken English. Sensing that he didn’t get my point, “I can’t buy more, because I don’t have any money on me. I lost my things yesterday and so I have to make do with this little money until I get my emergency certificate and go back to Finland”.

He gave me my pasta and as I sat down to eat, he brought me some coffee and a jam filled bun as well. I was taking out the money to pay him, he patted my shoulder, “don’t worry, you don’t have to pay. Even I was in your situation once before”. I didn’t know what to say to his kindness. Though I felt so famished, I could not eat all of it. So, I just packed the half eaten food and put it in my bag. As I walked out, I thanked him, “Where do you come from?” “From Iran”, he replied.

I just walked down the streets and nearly an hour later, I found the street with Indian restaurants around. There was one hotel which said, Taj Mahal, feeling homesick; I just walked in, hoping to talk to someone. The owners were Bangladeshis. I think that gentleman’s name was Mr. Ali. I chatted with him and his daughters for a while, when they asked about me, I just poured out my story. It felt much better. I was able to come to terms with the facts. It was the month of Ramadan and it was time for them to break their fast. So I asked if I could sit down and read the paper. As I sat down reading papers his daughter brought me a plate of snacks. It made my heart sink; I wondered if Mr. Ali thought I came to ask for food. That was the time, when I felt literally like a beggar. I declined the food, but they insisted. His daughter also brought me some tea. As I sat down sipping the tea and filling my already full stomach, I saw a couple of African people on the next table. I think they came from Ivory Coast or somewhere in West Africa. The sister Susie was married to a local Swedish man. She said she was almost on the verge of a divorce. I chatted with them for a while. And Susie asked me if she can do anything to help me. “I just need a watch to see the time, so that I can wake up and go to the Embassy in time”. Susie told me, “I have an alarm clock at home, why don’t you just come down and I shall give you one”. So I walked back to her place along with her brother and got myself the alarm clock. I told her that I will return it to Mr. Ali and she can take it back from him. To which she agreed and told her brother to drop me back home. I was back at the seven eleven and since it was only ten in the night, asked the guy if I could check my mails. In that time of isolation, the email was the only solace to a disturbed soul. Feeling more confident and light hearted, now that I have a ticket and with an assurance that I can get my Emergency Certificate from the embassy, I slept off well that night. I woke up early even before the alarm went off, got ready and walked out to the Seven Eleven for some coffee, and started to call up Nadeem. There was no answer. I was upset. I started to figure out how to get my photos done and go to the embassy, as I walked out of the shop, when suddenly, I head someone call me, “saraswati”. It was Nadeem. “Oh, I was trying to figure how I would leave the keys for you and go to embassy,” He said, “You don’t have to go to the embassy, they have found your papers!’ I didn’t believe my ears, “What?” “Yes, the Police called me, they got your purse in the post and your papers are there. You can go to the police headquarters and pick it up!’ “How did they find it?’ “They got it in the post. You see here if someone finds something, they can just drop it in a post box from which the items will be delivered to the police”. “Okay, I will go now”. “Did you eat breakfast?” Nadeem asked me. “No, I just had no stomach for food actually”. “Then come, have some breakfast, I will order something for you. What will you eat? Some pitta bread with vegetables and cheese?”

Soon after I was at the police station and found that all my papers were intact, the 100 euro cash was lost as were some four hundred euro travellers’ cheques. I presumed, that who ever stole my purse took the money and in his hurry assumed the travellers cheques to be money as well. As I counted the money and the lady at the desk asked, “Is everything in order?” “Yes, just the money is lost, if you can mention that in the report”. “Oh I am sorry, but it is good that you got your purse back”. “Yes, indeed, it means I am a free person and can go back home, I am very lucky”, I replied. “Do you think anyone has tampered with my passport?’ that was the biggest worry for me. She checked it out and said, “No, it is fine”. I took my report, signed on the receipt and went back to Sundbybergs. I almost danced my way back to Nadeem’s office. I saw people back in the streets and the whole place looked so different, like a party atmosphere, although all that they did was walk up and down the street, going to the shops and into offices etc. I went back to Seven Eleven to celebrate with some hot chocolate and sweets. I thanked the man at the counter. I couldn’t find my Iranian friend, “Please say my heartfelt thanks to your colleague and also inform him that I found my papers and am going back home”. The man seemed uninterested in my banter, but I went on nevertheless. My enquiry at Nordik bank told me that I must check with American Express, and so I walked down to Nadeem’s basement, hoping to call American Express. He dialled the number for me, and after nearly an hour’s interview over the phone, American Express gave me an address in Stockholm close to the harbour, from where they said, I could pick up my missing travellers cheques. Since it was almost 3 o clock, Nadeem told me to hurry, since I had to board the ship by 6pm. I thanked him and his friend and got ready to leave. “Here, please take these as a memory from Stockholm”, Nadeem gifted me two t-shirts with Stockholm printed on them. ‘These are from our print shop, and you can remember us when you use them!” ‘I will never be able to forget you or your help.” “Okay go back home safely”. As I walked out of that little ‘dungeon”, I packed with me a whole lot of memories, and reached Forex to get my TCs. They gave them to me in a yellow purse, which I use ever since to carry valuables while travelling. The bag is a bit torn now, but I still carry it and along with it, memories of two days which taught me a thing or two about the unseen bond that connects us.

As I ate my veggie Falafel at the seaside, watching the seagulls, I thought I understood the word, Free Bird.