"Because life, by its very nature, is full of vulgarities. What need is there to emphasise them by speaking of them?" - Alberto Moravia

So there I was, minding my own business, when a video popped up on WhatsApp. No, it wasn't about a dancing traffic policeman in Thailand or baby chicks walking in a line, like the iconic Beatles pic, along a zebra crossing. It wasn't my baby granddaughter splashing happily in her inflatable pool. I would have ignored it, but this thing called curiosity makes it kinda hard to resist. So there I was, minding my business put on hold, and following a long-haired lady down a corridor. She is clearly in a spot of trouble, for uniformed guards with batons are sternly ordering her to open her bag. She pretends to be surprised, then stands impassively as a female guard paws into her capacious bag and fishes out a mind-boggling array of cosmetics and toiletries. Our lady wants to leave. Instead, she is told that the owner of the general store is on the way. She seems to be blissfully unaware of close circuit cameras. Surprisingly though, this is the second consecutive day she has filched at this store. She wants to be allowed to leave.

"I won't come back again." She says plaintively, twice. Wild horses won't drag her there, duh. Later on, my female friends are not being able to mind their own businesses too. One stalks the lady on Facebook, another taps her old girl's network to obtain personal details of the lady in question. A third informs the lady wept when the police came. And then wept some more when the media got into it. Someone said she was almost sorry for her. Another came up with the news that the lady had come in a flashy car that none of us could afford. That got our claws out a bit.

So, why am I writing this - is it schadenfreude, the human tendency to enjoy the misery of others? I don't think so. Last year, I wrote a book on women and crime. I went to jails across the State to meet women who had committed violent crimes, including murder. Compared to those hardened, brutal women, our lady is an offender of the garden variety. The murderers I met were pushed to the edge by horrendous circumstances. Our lady, hair straightened, manicured, pedicured, privileged, nay loaded, filched stuff to pamper herself. I am very disappointed in you, lady, for you let us women down. Even more than the moral transgression, you were laughably clumsy in your crime. I would describe it as a sad blend of naiveté, clumsiness and failure to smooth talk your way out of the fiasco. And the tears ... having made a moral choice, having acted on your own volition, why the wimpy self-pity? Toughen up, lady, it you want to go further along this path.

Why do we steal? Hungarian psychiatrist Robert Tyminski has penned a seminal study Psychology of theft and loss: Stolen and fleeced, in which his premise is that stealing can be the result of deprivation, of envy, of a desire for power and influence.

An act of theft can also bring forward someone's hidden traits, Tyminski stresses that stealing is related to the subtle balance of loss versus gain that operates in all of us. Our natural aversion to loss can lead to extreme actions as a means to acquire what we may not be able to gain through time, work or money. He describes theft as timeless and fundamentally human. There is a complexity of human motivation when it comes to stealing.

What men can do, women can do better. Our lady in question sadly failed to live up to this expectation. Her work was shoddy, to say the least. In case she wants to hone her skills, here is a guideline. Remember, the main aim is not to get caught. Is that rocket science? Then, think of experimenting with disguises. Ski-masks won't work in our tropical country. Master that art of smooth talking, rather than asking to be let go. Think of Vincenzo. He made off with the Mona Lisa. Yes, you heard me right. The Mona Lisa, arguably one of the most recognised paintings on Planet Earth. In 1911, Vincenzo hid in the Louvre Museum and strolled out with it concealed under his smock. He kept it in his flat for two years before being busted. Then there's Frank Abagnale (played in the movie Catch Me If You Can by Leonardo DiCaprio) who scammed millions of dollars from banks across 26 countries. And this started when he was 16. Surprise, surprise, you can be a poet and a thief. Francois Villon was one, and he is read till today, his crimes long forgotten.

Then there is Bill Mason - regular job, wife, kids, a suburban house with a picket fence. Only, on weekends, he burgled the homes of the rich and famous, making off with mega-bucks jewellery. He became addicted to stealing, got caught and lived five years in prison. Once out, he wrote his bestselling book Nine Lives. Must be a darned good read.

Somehow, I have a more benevolent attitude towards book thieves, provided they don't filch my books, that is. When you make off with a book, it's because you love reading, actually turning the pages, dog-earing them. In a world where no mall in my city has a book shop, books and readers have receded to the past. Most people just read the reviews, and don't want to wrap their heads around something more substantial than Chetan Bhagat. The book thief restores my faith that reading as an art will prevail.

Then there are other thefts for noble causes. In Lian Tanner's Museum of Thieves, a character says "There are some things, child, which you should steal, if you have enough love and courage in your heart. You must snatch freedom from the hands of the tyrant. You must spirit away innocent lives before they are destroyed."

In my own line of work, I have come across many cases of theft, or plagiarism. Perfectly respectable, educated men, women passing off online material as their own, unaware that a little bit of verifying exposes them. Many years ago, a woman writer had her second book brought out by a major publishing house. She was a protégé of Khushwant Singh himself. He shook his head sadly as he recounted to me that after its release, a British publishing house exposed the book as being copied word for word from a book by a British writer. It was a major scandal and the lady, unable to cope, took her own life.

In our country today, petty thieves are lynched, while multi-crore scamsters holiday in Monaco. New crimes have proliferated - crimes that leave us bewildered.... data-theft, identity theft, techno theft. If it takes brains to commit then, we need all our wits about us to prevent them.

The video that set off this piece got deleted. I wish the lady well and think that she is a good person with a temporary aberration. I think I'll get back to minding my own business.
Indrani Raimedhi