The only thing I did differently this morning was wear a cap to keep my growing locks in place. Then this happened.

Typically, my better half takes our daughter to her athletics training at 5:50 a.m., but today my wife called in sick, so I had to do the honours. It’s rare that I get to take my daughter to her training at the wee hours of the morning, so I follow a set routine while she’s at her training for an hour. I usually jaywalk around, doing nothing more than listening to audiobooks, while pretending to stretch a bit to look smarter to the passing fitness enthusiasts. Today, the weather was pleasant; cool, breezy air blew, bringing a nip to the morning. I love such days.

After we parked our car, and my spunky little one headed into the field, I did what I always do – I went jaywalking around the field and nearby in-roads. An hour later, when I returned, my daughter rushed out and, as she always does, started telling me about her exceptional athletic escapades of the morning. While she talked and we reached the car, I put my hand in my pocket and there was no key in it! I pushed my fingers deeper only to find a gaping hole in the pocket. There was no, billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles, key!

My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly composed myself and reached into the other pocket, hoping and praying to find the key, but there were only my ear-pods to greet me. For a moment, I was frantic. I circled around the car, bent down and checked beneath, peeped inside through the closed windows, looking hard but all to no avail.

By this time, my daughter was aghast. She had to rush home to fill out the form for the upcoming athletics meet, and she told me that today was the last day for submission. She also mentioned a project she needed to submit, for which some details were still pending. I thought to myself, “Can’t she see I’ve just had a heart attack and am still recuperating!?”

Nevertheless, I managed to smile at her. She smiled back and asked, “Papa, what do we do now? Should we take a rickshaw?” Faced with this pressing question, I felt a burden of indecision welling up inside me. To go or not to go… that was the Shakespearean dilemma my head was spinning with.

I told her to sit on the nearby bench while I quickly retraced my jaywalking path, hoping to find the key on one of the many roads and in-roads I had walked through. She agreed reluctantly and asked me to return quickly. Again, I managed to just smile at her. There was serious search work to be done!

The Olympics may have concluded, but boy, you should have seen me run today. I mapped out the path I had walked this morning, sharpened my focus, and completed the full stretch of almost 2 kilometers without missing a step. It took me about ten minutes to rush through the circuit, and to realize that what’s lost is lost. I returned to the car, where my daughter was waiting on the bench, and wanted to weep, but I withheld the watergates from opening.

A little quick thinking helped better sense to prevail. I went to the park guard and asked if anyone had left a key with him. “No, Sir, not yet,” he said, visibly concerned. I gave him my number and requested him to call me in case any blessed soul handed in my lost key. Then, I returned to my daughter, and we agreed it was best for now to take a rickshaw back home.

There were no rickshaws to be seen this early in the morning, so we decided to walk to the next lane, where the likelihood of finding one was almost certain. As we started to walk, my jubilant daughter began telling me again about her athletic escapades, which, I confess, I was in no mood to hear. But I listened to her with occasional “aha,” “oh ho,” and “yes” thrown in to keep her interest and enthusiasm high.

Typically, I lose temper in such moments, when a blind eye is turned to my agonies, but trumpets are blown for one’s personal triumphs. However, today the weather was pleasant; cool, breezy air blew, bringing a nip to the morning and to my mood too. I told myself, what’s happened, has happened. So, just enjoy the cool air. I removed the cap and let the cool air into my hair.

As we walked, and my daughter talked, I would stop to ask the security guards of the buildings in the lane if they had found a key. “No, Sir,” was all I got. When we reached the end of the lane, almost half a kilometer away, I saw a rickshaw waiting, its driver expectantly looking at us. Before we got in, I half-heartedly asked the guard of the corner building if he had found a key on the road.

“Yes sir, I have,” he said and pulled out my key from his drawer. He asked, “Is this yours?” I looked at my daughter; she looked at me wide-eyed. Then, I turned my head and looked at the guard. He was tall and lean, with a straight moustache, neatly parted hair, and a sincere 60-year old face. I held his hand and thanked him. I offered him something in return, to which he said, “Nothing Sir, please don’t embarrass me!”

Two jubilant souls went back to the car, half a kilometer away, bounce in their feet, cool air in their heads. The car beeped, we got it. The engine started, and I wondered what did I do different today to get such an adventurous morning. 

The only thing I did differently this morning was wear a cap to keep my growing locks in place. Then this happened.