Rare encounters of the honest kind

A sumptuous dinner of favourite cuisine was what S and I had needed to make the weekend utile. It had been a tiring day, with the usual weekend capers. Overall, the weekend had been going on well. Having gone to bed on Saturday night, I had no intention of rolling off the bed before propriety demanded it. Thus, a wake-up call at nine on a Sunday morning was unsought. Hoping it would be a wrong call, not needing any mental energies to be pulled up, I picked up the phone to face the voice of a woman haltingly speaking in Kannada.

"Am I talking to..."
"Yes, what is this about..." (Some courtesies are lost in translation)
"Do you live at the address..."
"Yes!"
I was getting more confused than frustrated. Then, she delivered the biff that kicked out any remnants of sleep from my eyes and drooped shoulders.

"Do you know that you have lost your wallet?"

A flurry of images speedily rushed past me. What the ...? What? When? How? The consequences of losing a wallet are new, but not unknown to me. I have never lost my wallet, more out of diligence and the knowledge of pains associated with losing one than out of luck. I have been carrying wallets for at least 17 years. I was already visualising myself making scores of phone calls, going over pages of statements, getting new cards, disputing charges, getting a new license card from the RTO, loss of a few hundreds in Indian currency and the 'just for kicks' carry-ons in my wallet-20 Euros, a ten dollar note and an each of the extinct one and two rupees notes.

As she continued, realisation descended on me that she would not be calling me if my wallet were merely lost. This telephonic transaction was consequent to the occurrence of the logical next step of 'lost', 'found'. OK, then I knew what all this was about.

"Thank you! Can you please tell me where you are calling from?" was all I could muster, still trying to recover from the agnition that my wallet had been, fortunately for me, found by someone responsible.

"We live near your house. I am calling from house number ... on 12th Main". Aha, a neighbor!

"My brother found your wallet last night on the street near your house", she continued,"We tried to call you up soon after, but no one picked up the phone". In blissful ignorance, I had been lolling in the bed for more than 10 hours, while my billfold, which had never before been away from me was being cared for by some stranger.

I threw some water on my face and dressed-up and I was at the gates of this good Samaritan in less than three minutes. I was greeted by a short man in white mundu and a white vest. He ushered me in, even as another younger guy with wavy hair and thick moustache waved to a young lady in a gown. They must have started their day just now, I thought, since she was just wiping off traces of toothpaste from her chin.

I said 'Hi, my name is... I think you spoke to me over the phone'.

She handed me the wallet as I was shaking hands with the others and asking their names. I had guessed by that time that I was with a Malayalee family .

"My brother Anish found your wallet when he was walking past the new apartment building. He said he had seen some labourers around, but he picked up the wallet before they did. He is at the church now. "

I took the wallet and was about to put it in my pocket, when she said "Please check the contents". My gut was telling me there was no need to. Their intention was clear. A wallet had been found, it was being returned. However, there are reasons why people would ask you to do this. It is a reasonable thing to do lest there be disputes in future. I gave the insides of the wallet a cursory glance and confirmed that everything was fine.

"I do not know how to thank you for this! Please thank Anish on my behalf", I urged them. I really do not know how to reciprocate this action. My friends and I have found things in the past - it especially happens with debit cards at the many ATMS in our office campus- and returned them to the rightful. But this is the first time that I have been at the receiving end. Quantifying something as gracious an action diminishes its sanctity. I could not embarrass them with a monetary reward. All I could do was invite them over to our home for a tea and offer help if they needed any in settling down (they had moved in a few weeks back).

In an attempt to pen this seemingly mundane, but quite a significant if you think about it, event , I tried to look for synonyms for the word 'honesty'- as in what I would want to describe what the finder of my wallet did. I find that there is no other single-worded-term that perfectly fits. Truthfulness, integrity, guilelessness, honour- they all come close but are nuances of character not same as honesty. It is definitely something basic.

So, why is it rare?