Kamal Barui: Proof That Good Souls Still Exists
A lost wallet, a sceptical view of Siliguri, and the unexpected kindness of a stranger named Kamal Barui—this heartfelt travel tale explores the chaos of losing something precious and the quiet miracle of its return, reminding us that decency still exists in unexpected places.
Just a day before, I shared the tale of my trip to Rangbul La – a stunning journey that left me breathless and with plenty of stories to tell. But did I mention my lost wallet? And more importantly, did I mention the wonderful soul named Kamal Barui? Perhaps not. Well, here’s another story for you, one that might just restore your faith in humanity.
Siliguri. Ah, Siliguri. I’ll be honest, it didn’t strike me as the sort of town that could be mistaken for a charming little gem. In fact, if I were to describe it in one sentence, it would be this: Siliguri is the kind of place that could only be called the Mecca for cheats. I’m not being dramatic here, mind you, I’m simply stating the facts.
But let me rewind a bit.
When we first arrived in Siliguri, Arnab and I had made plans to head up to Darjeeling. It was a decision made after much back-and-forth, fueled by a couple of cups of tea and some discussions. But here’s where the real story begins. As we finished our tea and I reached for my wallet to pay, I discovered something that stopped my heart in its tracks – my wallet was gone. Vanished. Just like that.
“Someone wacked my wallet!” I shouted, like a man who had just discovered the last biscuit in the jar had been eaten. Panic set in, and though I was now wallet-less and with a good chunk of my day ruined, I tried my best to shrug it off. After all, I was going to the hills – surely the beauty of the landscape would help me forget the lost funds and forgotten cards. So off to Darjeeling we went, with my wallet incident quickly fading into the background.
But fast forward to my return to Calcutta, where the task of reapplying for my lost cards became the new thorn in my side. Just as I was getting ready to tackle the headache of bureaucracy, the miracle happened.
I received a call from an unknown number. The voice on the other end was calm, reassuring. “I found your wallet,” the man said, as if he were telling me he’d found a stray kitten, not a lost item on a dusty road. He explained that he had found my wallet lying on the street, abandoned like an orphan, and noticed my press card inside it with my number. And so, Kamal Barui – the man who had discovered my wallet and restored my faith in decency – had taken the time to call me.
You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. There, in a world where we’re often too quick to assume the worst of people, there was Kamal Barui, an honest man doing the right thing, despite the world around him. A beacon of light in a dark and dreary place.
A few days later, I found myself on a bus to Siliguri, eager to meet the man who had restored my hope in humanity. Kamal Barui had arranged to meet me at a specific spot, and within no time, I was standing face to face with him. There he was, with a smile on his face and my wallet safely in his hand.
In that moment, I realised something: All is not lost. There are still people who will do the right thing, even when no one is watching. As long as people like Kamal Barui exist, there’s still hope in this world.
So, to Kamal Barui, wherever you are, thank you. You might not know it, but you’ve done more than return a lost wallet – you’ve returned a piece of faith in this crazy, chaotic world we live in.
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