Take my lecture, not my money

I reside in Dhaka, a city not well known for being, how shall I put it, secure. The tale I am about to narrate is seven years old from the time of this writing.

In 2010, I had saved enough money to finally buy myself a decent 10,000 taka ($120) phone. I loved it! Finally, I had the ability to put on earphones and not listen to the constant yelling of the world around me. Of course, a sixteen year old displaying his phone and traveling home after dark sounds like rather easy prey for muggers. If it sounds bad enough to be true, it probably is.

I was stopped and approached by two men.

Muggers Man 1 and Man 2
A semi-professional digital recreation of them

MAN 1 claimed that he and his friend were running a gang in the area and that they required money to buy alcohol for a boozefest party they had later that night. I was a sixteen year old who had saved up for months by walking long distances and skipping cafeteria food (which I would have done anyways to be honest). After getting that newly acquired phone though, my wallet was breathtakingly empty.

MAN 1 was a patient fellow. He assured me that it was okay for me to be broke, but that I was rich in other ways: My heart My phone.

So there I was, face to face with two adults who could probably serve me as mashed potatoes in their party. What was the most logical course of action I could take? I could not overpower them, I could not run from them, and I’m sure they were not interested in my economics notes (can you blame them though?) What was I to do? In the midst of panic, I constructed the most absolutely perfect idea.

G O D
Pictured above: a sixteen year old lunatic

Yes. My plan of action consisted of looking at these two criminals straight in the eyes and lecturing them about life, morality and how God would disapprove of their actions. Truth be told, I was completely on autopilot after the first few seconds and I just spewed out whatever came to my head. I concluded my brilliant speech by telling them that they still had time to repent and to go home and pray.

It worked.

…hah?

You are probably thinking many variations of ‘how’, ‘what’ and ‘why’ and honestly, so did I. I still do! How did that plan work at all? It had more than fifty seven ways to fall flat on its face and have me robbed, or worse, expelled killed. At the age of 23, I’m really not much of a hardcore follower of any faith, but hey.

God works in mysterious ways.

PS: MAN 2 didn’t say anything at all for the whole duration.

Muggers MAN 2
All around me are familiar faces…worn out places…worn out faceeeees