This question takes me back to the spring season of 2009.

I was in the 11th grade and the class I was in, had been chaotic for a while, since we had a lunch thief amongst us.

These were simpler times, when there were no CCTVs to check up on students.

This student (or thief) would take advantage of any free class (library or sports or any activity where we'd have to leave our bagpacks in class itself) before lunch, and go through lunches of other students, leaving them with an empty lunch smelling of deliciousness, betrayal and missed opportunities.

So, Spring 2009. My mum was down with fever. So was my dad. It had been 3 days. And since no Indian parent would let their kids skip school, I was made to leave. I half heartedly fixed myself a sandwich and left.

Right before lunch, we had a sports class, post which I rushed myself back to the class to stuff my face with food. Before I could enter, I was stopped by my class teacher who informed that my father had called him to let me know that the bread I used for making sandwiches was MODLY and that I should throw it

Fine, I though. I'd go eat at the Cafe. I opened the bag, the lunch felt lighter than it should. IT WAS EMPTY.

The FOOD THIEF had struck my lunch that day.

In the words of Ross, “MY SANDWICH! MY SANDWICH!”.

Only, guy had no idea what shit he just had, and what misery awaits him.

By the end of the day, one of my friends had started to throw up. I confronted him. He confessed. I told him why it had happened to him and he should see a doctor immediately.

Rest assured, he never stole another lunch again.

HE STOLE.

WHAT HE STOLE, CAUSED HIM PAIN.

That sounds like Karma to me.