Tiffin Box

Bright Yellow is your daffodils; Red Rose is too cool

Hold my finger O my brother; want to go to school

Aye dear little sweet sister, It is today lovely Sunday

Let's enjoy & play together, Will study on Monday

Oh God, it's Monday!!! The beauty and redolence of weekend abates. The unwelcome day that creeps in with strident sound of alarm. And with two or more snoozes, the day starts in haste. Yes God!!! It's Monday!!!

"It is Monday dear, Get up". My mom's endearing voice would bring a naughty smile and crave for pampering. I had always seen her amused and affectionately stroking into my hairs and tendering her love on my chicks. I couldn't understand when my nurturing, protecting and loving mornings got replaced by jarring sound of alarms. It is fallout of knowing that humans keep cognizance of every small bad or good thing in his life and it inspires his actions sometimes somewhere. Childhood is just about being there in innocence that carries nothingness.

However, it was an important day in my life. Bright yellow was mine and red rose for my sister were the color of Tiffin boxes which had recently come to our set of belongings. The round apple shape Tiffin boxes were the long cherished dream come true to our life; for us both me and my sister. We would go in the market with parents and cling to our own interest in the shops. Among the Teddies and Barbies, cars and cartoons, puzzles and games, Tiffin Boxes were discovery of my sister. She had shown me her new born infatuation with a mischievous grin and twinkle in her eyes. This was not only the colors or the shape but had its own childhood charm that every child has it for their inane belongings especially the new ones.

When I got into my senses after my mother's repeated pampering, I suddenly realised the importance of the day. To my mother's surprise I got up immediately and ran upstairs. My mother wanted to understand and so asked too," Aye Dear, What happened? Where are you going? What is this haste for?" I peeped through the stair case side bars holding it into my hands to reply but chuckled at her and then again ran away. I reached to my sister's room to wake her up. "Dolly, Aye Dolly, get up". She was sleeping with her mouth open keeping her both the palms holding each other above her head. Children always sleep as if there is no tomorrow and this was the best gesture suited for. Her little Barbie was accompanying her beside and monkey was sitting silently over the corner as if looking at me with its eyes wide open. I shook her hand by elbow and tried to wake her up.

Dolly was my cousin, one and half year younger to me. With time and experiences I understood how your age does make a difference in your life. Childhood defies all its experiences as inane with every day begin on a clean slate and that's the beauty. Nothing is carried but the light of innocence dipped in forgetfulness. At home, we had been utterly unmanageable and perverse kids. Our mothers needed to keep a constant vigil on our activities failing might result into a child war. It's a war of screaming, howling, shouting, pinching, hair pulling, teasing, mocking, crying and what's not. Somewhere it would have been sadistic pleasure to see other not normal. All these would not last a long; the next moment would see sobbing souls again pact the differences and cheerfully confined to their beautiful stainless world. Our mothers would normally keep themselves uninvolved to our childish war knowing apparently it would end in rejoice soon.

She looked at me through her half opened eyes and stretched herself with a yawn and slept again on her side folding legs at knees. I called her again, "Dolly, its Monday!!! Get up". She got up immediately and sat on the bed staring at me for a moment as it seemed she was trying to get out of any dream or something suddenly appeared in her mind. "Bhaiya", she said in a mellow tone rubbing her eyes and smiled frivolously. She tucked her Barbie in her side and offered her hand to me. I hold her fingers and helped her to get down of the bed. "Bhaiya, do you know, today we will take new Tiffin boxes to the school", she told putting on her slippers. I enfolded her small finger and confirmed," Humm, I know, let us get ready for the school. Bhaudas will come soon". She had been talking uninterruptedly about how much she liked Tiffin color and its shape, whether she would keep it in school bag or hold it in her hand, what would she ask our mother to put into and so on till we reached downstairs. In my absence, her Barbie would be silent companion to her conversations. She would comb her, get her ready and feed, lull her to sleep and talk to her tirelessly. She promised her to get her a new Tiffin box as beautiful as hers if she studies properly but definitely not the same. Only she and I could have the same boxes on this earth.

Bhaudas was in his mid twenties, dark not less than kohl, a medium build young man with curly hair and a little broad lower lip. He would always wear a half pant and full shirt which would always have stains due to sweat. We had seen a very rare of him talking but would show a bright line of teeth he had when sometimes we would caught him placing a pinch of tobacco between his lower lip and teeth. He would reach at school time and ring bells on his cycle rickshaw. The sound of Bhaudas's rickshaw bells was the signal to start of the day and we would appear to go to the school in a trice as it was heard. Our rickshaw was side ventilated box shaped cage having a small door to enter and exit. Bhaudas would take our bags and hang it on rickshaw's handle as much as it could hold and rest on his shoulder. He would pick us up and make comfortable inside the rickshaw. And the journey would start towards school with some more halts and pickups.

We had one more partner in this journey who was our neighbour and friend, Kammu. Kammu was nick name to Kamar Ali. Kammu had never liked going school and it would always be a nightmare to put him inside the rickshaw. He would cry and shout like hell, hold rickshaw's small door to obstruct his entry and do anything to let her Amma to take pity on him. It was Bhaudas's job to forcefully accommodate him into rickshaw and latch the door. It had been a daily irksome ritual for both. Kammu would sometimes find his luck when his Amma couldn't see her youngest beloved child's pain and allow him to stay back. However, we had never seen Bhaudas to bulge a little to Kammu's tricks. He knew Kammu would stop all his nonsense once he went away from his Amma's sight. And that was true too; one could see a sudden change in Kammu as the journey moved on. The cry's would collapse to sobs and then to smiles. And that's the way children build their world around. The world of forgetfulness and what is carried is nothing.

"Hey Kammu, see", Dolly chuckled showing her precious Tiffin box to Kammu. Kammu had just completed the act of sobbing after a failure attempt to pull her mother's commiseration. She had pulled her hand back all of a sudden and tried to hide the Tiffin box under her scarf when she saw Kammu glanced at it with mischievous smile. "Bhaiya has also got with him, the orange one", she diverted his attention. "I kept it in my bag, Dolly, why don't you show yours", I asked her. "I know it looks like a red football", Kammu chuckled sarcastically. She ignored his comment as if she knew very well how to reply when somebody depreciatory called her beautiful Tiffin box a football. She simply ingeniously asked him if he was done with his homework knowing he wouldn't have done it. It was the most disliked thing to converse about for Kammu and one could see the changed colors on his face and color of triumph on Dolly's craft smile. Poor Kammu detached himself and looked sadly outside at Bhaudas who was peddling the rickshaw and flicking away the sweat. He had felt the fear and cramp in his belly thinking about the teacher's blood shot eyes in anger. It was certain as expressed often that he envied Bhaudas being silent companion who would go to school with us but never had to take any pain of homework. Every person in his life who has nothing to do with study or school was the most fortunate one. It's the beauty of child's mind that they create their own world of placidity that does not see any sign of worry and live vivaciously. With age, as boundaries of awareness and understanding in life expands, the knowledge itself play as an impediment to one's freedom to act.

There had been long silence prevailed. Bhaudas would stop at certain distance for other inmates of the rickshaw on the way, get them in and move on. Dolly who was still unable to distract herself from the charm of Tiffin box, out of her innocence enquired Kammu," you are not talking since I have not shown you my Tiffin box, Kammu? Take this! See! It is not like football. My mom had given paratha and jam". Kammu tried to control his emotions to say something but chocked. He covered his face by his both the hands and sobbed. "Kammu, don't worry, I did my homework. You can copy it when we reach to school", I suggested hesitantly. Kammu wiped his tears as if got relieved of any patrimonial debt and took the Tiffin box in his hand and admired, "Yes Dolly, It is not like football. It is the most beautiful one I have ever seen. Where did you get it?" Dolly, who seemed confused over the whole conversation couldn't see any bound to her happiness when Kammu admired however question asked was too inane to answer.

It had been our routine that would see singing rhymes, playing games, talking, crying, laughing and teasing. It used to be a different world of freedom inside the rickshaw where nobody was there to watch us neither teachers nor parents. Time was never precious and nobody would comprehend it. Nothing was important than our own perception to deal with it and we would be happy with the mess that would confront later. Childhood is the time when we thrust more importance to school bag over school, stories over books and of course Tiffin over food. Feeding us used to be a most difficult task for our mothers. We would never eat without being coddled. We would run all across the house mocking and giggling and our mother would follow us with plate in her hand. She would persuade us to eat for chocolates, Ice Creams or stories. It happens with every child and knowingly we might not eat that much at school our mothers would pack more than we could in our Tiffin. A mother can only feel what gets deprived in her heart when she doesn't see her child for whole day. Its only mother who knows the pain of departs when she doesn't allow tears to roll over while tendering a small kiss on her child's forehead when he goes school. All the words may fail to describe the happiness of helpless heart when her child comes back home after school.

However, anything which would have been leftover in our Tiffin after lunch was meant for Bhaudas during our return journey to home. On the way to home, he would stop rickshaw at a place near water tank and ask us for leftovers. It had been easiest way to avoid our mother's disappointment of not eating the Tiffin completely. We would pack all the leftovers in all the three Tiffin in one for Bhaudas. Bhaudas, the rickshaw puller, was a poor man who would ferry us to the school in school time and pull passenger rickshaw for whole day. His whole day hard work would return with meager earning to make his both end meet. Poverty and empty stomach do devoid human of any values. His silence would have been sign of conscious guilt that he had dumped beneath his heart. It was an unpardonable act as a human being to eat Tiffin of small children who were so naiveté to understand to their own feelings. It was an unintentional crime with no repent, as seemed so, against the faith of our parents on Bhaudas. Bhaudas was just a person under the circumstances that life throws to make a man so callous to close his eyes towards understanding of good or bad leaving no trace of any guilt.

I and Kammu were in another class opposite to Dolly's but we would meet in every recess. It always used to be very joyous moment of reunion in the breaks with my sister. Two children, who would often fight for silly things at home, could be seen enveloped in the feelings of affection, love and care that would go deep in the time when we were not together. The smiles on our face would explicitly reveal the pain and love of the inner happiness. I would help her pack her bag in recess between her continuous chirps and go towards aisle holding hands. In lunch break, all the children would sit in the aisle on a mat set by school for lunch. We would recite poem of Guru Nanak Devji "Ek Onkar, Satnam, Karta Purakh" followed by the prayer of thanksgiving towards God before starting our lunch. Thanks giving, because "thank you" was the only word what I could remember out of the complete prayer. Thanks to our teachers who had never bothered to explain the meaning of those lines that could have sowed seeds of wisdom on our clean slate.

Kammu would have omelet and parathas as usual in his Tiffin as usual that we were very fond of. We would never understand what his interest in our vegetables was but he was always reluctant to share his omelet. Obviously, it would have been human aspiration for change that is inevitable in every aspect of life. He would normally eat non vegetarian food at his home and so vegetables were delights and for us the opposite was true and not sharing omelet was just his childish stubbornness. He had habit to answer natures call during meals and that was the only time for us to play our mischievousness of replacing omelet by vegetables leaving him crying once he comes back. It is as simple as nobody would be satiated in what he has and always try to fill the deprived state of affairs by unknown. That unknown is the charm; it's the motivation behind our every act. Here the unknown was kammu's dejected crying face that we would love to see. It's the calculated risk we as a human often take. Had it been not there, our life would have been dull enough to live. However, sometimes it crosses the acceptable values beyond one's consciousness like Bhaudas. It has been an unanswered dilemma in my life still if Bhaudas was wrong in his deeds. He asked for leftovers, left over our full tummies. His crime was too small to satiate his cramped stomach than our vicarious want to see Kammu in dejection for our love of omelet. However innocent crimes are not meant to be punished and those too that are done without any ill motive.

Those moments of silence in the class would energies all of us to vent it in the breaks. Entire aisle would sound like a bazaar amid laughter, giggles, talks and cry. I and Dolly had our Tiffin while, thanks to the mid food ritual of Kammu, he was still having it. Kammu was amazingly calm that day knowing too that we had eaten up half of his omelet when he went to the washroom. He just looked at his Tiffin and started eating without saying anything. It was difficult to understand if that was the expression of pain or anger. Dolly knew he liked Jam which Kammu found spread on half Paratha that Dolly placed below omelet and chapattis. We could see a little smile on his face. His calmness and smile was the token of his gratitude for my help in his homework. We couldn't enjoy the pleasure of his dejection of losing omelet but somewhere were pleased to watch him not annoyed and relishing on Jam Paratha. "Dolly, will you hold my Tiffin for a moment, I wish to go to washroom", I asked Dolly who was still watching Kammu holding her Tiffin in her hand. Children had started running and playing. "You liked it, Kammu Bhaiya?" inquired Dolly. Kammu raised his face grinning and said," You should bring it daily".

I washed my hands, relieved and came to aisle again. There was a huge uproar and some boys were chasing each other yelling. Girls were silently standing and watching in the direction where boys were enjoying the struggle to play. Amid cacophony, nothing was audible and I got pushed here and there when I looked for Dolly and Kammu. I reached at the place where we had our Tiffin but both were not there. Kammu's Tiffin was half closed and food was scattered around. My heart sunk in confusion and breath almost choked. I looked here and there and then eventually found Dolly at the corner holding my Tiffin box and sobbing. She burst into tears as she saw me, "Bhaiya, My Tiffin Box". My heart broke apart looking her crying inconsolably. I tried to control my emotions but something crumpled inside that rolled over my chicks. I held her by her shoulder and asked in choked voice," Tell me what happened, please don't cry, where is Kammu?" She couldn't utter anything and just shown her finger in the direction where boys were still running, chasing and yelling. I could understand what that chaos was for. I wiped my face with my hands and ran towards aisle. I saw Kammu bent on his knees almost crawling and struggling amid legs trying to get hold of Tiffin box. The whole aisle had become a football ground with my little sister's newest love being played with. Everybody was laughing in jest and kicking it as they could and my dear friend Kammu would run around, jostle and bear the bruise of the shoes on his body. Kammu was sweating profusely and his fair face turned red in agility. I was transfixed to think anything to act and then somebody kicked the Tiffin which got hit hard on a wall. There was a sudden silence followed by huge applause. Some boys stayed away and rest followed the Tiffin in more vigour. Again the game started after a little pause. Meanwhile, Kammu stood, run and jumped on it. Some tried to hit it again while he had grabbed it and held it near to his chest folding his both the hands around it facing the floor. The players dispersed happily leaving Kammu breathless in midway of aisle. I went near him and sit before him on my knees and meanwhile Dolly also accompanied. Kammu lifted his face with a victorious smile. He didn't realize that his nose got banged until he felt blood on his lips.

Somehow, the whole aisle game story spread in the school and Kammu became popular. Later I came to know that Dolly had kept her Tiffin box on the mat to open my Tiffin box to give it to Kammu so that he could accommodate all the leftovers in my Tiffin Box. However, somebody kicked it just for a fun and the game started. Kammu without wasting a moment just went up and took the war on his own shoulder. The Tiffin box got broken at the cap. Amazingly, Dolly didn't cry thereafter when she saw Kammu bleeding. She wiped his blood with her handkerchief and said ruefully", Kammu Bhaiya, See what happened to you due to my Tiffin Box". Kammu handed over the Tiffin to Dolly and said sarcastically, "I told you, it looks like a football". Everybody laughed but somewhere Dolly was hurt deeply looking at her broken Tiffin Box. She didn't speak anything during journey towards home. She carried the shattered dream back home on her wharf. She would have realised somewhere that her sadness for broken Tiffin was nothing compared to the valour of Kammu. Rickshaw moved past the water tank but that day Bhaudas didn't stop it. That day onward Bhaudas never asked for leftovers

Next morning, when I went to wake her up I found her talking to Barbie," I promised you that I will bring you a Tiffin box like mine if you study well, right. See this is for you. Now study well". She handed her over my Yellow Tiffin box. Our parents had brought three new Tiffin boxes for us, two for us and one for our dearest friend Kammu.