When I shoplifted… and got caught

I was four. She was seven. And we were bored to death at a sari shop in Paltan Bazar, Dehra Dun’s main market, where mummy had spent close to two hours looking at saris but not liking any of them.
My sister and I were initially interested looking at the bright coloured saris but lost interest in no time. Perhaps also because of this carpeted staircase inside the shop that caught our fascination. We were running up and down the stairs giggling and relieved to be out of that sari section when we spotted a pen stand on the landing of the staircase. There were bright coloured plastic pens kept neatly in the stand. We hesitated for a bit and then without giving much thought picked one pen each.
To be honest, we didn’t know we were stealing but for some reason knew that we could not show the pens to our parents sitting at a distance looking at the saris. So, we hid the pens inside our ponchos, which were an integral part of our clothing through the winter season in Doon.
After the sari was purchased, finally, we went to Laxmi, the only south-Indian restaurant in Dehra Dun where we had our regular masala dosas. My parents would have guessed then that we were hiding something as we ate our dinner with our left hands inside the poncho all along. It was then that we started getting tensed.
By the time, we reached home didi and I had perhaps started sweating apprehensive of being caught. We were not off the mark. Our discomfort at the restaurant had been noticed and we were caught.
Funnily, my sister locked herself in the bathroom when my mom discovered that I was hiding a pen under the poncho. I don’t remember what I told her or my father but I do remember saying sorry several times (on hindsight I think I should have said it was justified given that they took so long to buy one sari). Then it was my sister’s turn. She came out of the bathroom and she too was asked to show what she was hiding.
The two yellow ugly plastic pens were placed on the bed. Didi and I stood there ashamed of our `crime’. We were asked to hold our ears and say sorry. We were even made to do ten sit-ups. It was fine until then. But, the shocker came when my parents decided to take us to the shop again to apologise to the shopkeeper and return the pens to him.
Even to my four-year-old mind, it sounded bizarre. What would the owner of a big shop care for two plastic pens. I didn’t dare to reason with my parents. The next day, didi and I sat behind Papa on the scooter feeling embarrassed at the prospect of apologizing to the shopkeeper. We reached the same shop. Papa handed over the pens to the fat man, who was the owner, and asked us to say sorry. We squirmed but managed to mumble a sorry. The man smiled and said it was ok.
I thought of this incident while watching Oprah the other day where she was interviewing people who had secret lives. The first interviewee was a shoplifter who was profusely apologizing to her family for this secret she had hidden from them much like the pens didi and I had hidden from our parents under our ponchos. Luckily, we were made to apologize on time.