“Got my phone stolen right out of my pocket on the subway in New Delhi.

I realized it was gone when I got off. So for some unknown reason, I decided to hop back on to look for it. A stranger pointed to the friend of the guy who took it (I didn’t know it was a duel theft at this time). He was young (early 20s) with a red jacket and a scar running down one of his eyes. I confronted him and started patting him down. The same stranger then told me, “grab him. Don’t let go.”

So, I grab the back of his jacket. Shit hits the fan.

Begin angry mob. Hindi starts flying everywhere like a piñata exploded. Cricketbats start hitting the guy, open handed smacks from strangers. And there’s me, little white boy shitting his pants. Adrenaline and panic flood over me. I just want my phone, man. Not this…

Fast forward 3 or 4 hours and we’re at the police station. The thief’s friend is on the ground crying and bloody, apologizing to me on his knees. He’s grabbing both of his ear lobes (Indian apology, I was told). I just want my phone, man…

Eventually, the other friend came back for him, so to speak. He threw a black plastic bag at the police station and ran away. The officer brings the bag into the room with the kid still on the floor. He plops the bag in front of me, opens it, and pulls out my phone from a bag filled with curry.

“Is this yours?”

‘HOLY SHIT’ “Yeah, let me unlock it.”

I wipe off the curry. It still fucking works.

The officer then throws the bag of curry at the kid on the ground. As he did this, I assume what he said in Hindi was, “eat it.”

So me and a couple other officers watch this kid eat curry off the dirty ground in silence. They even gave him a spoon.”