The Tiffin Box Story

8. The Tiffin Box Story

Tiffin boxes form a very important part of everyone's schooling... I am sure no one would disagree on this. Our story was no different, may be more eventful than what you would have expected it to be. We were special!

Two rules were almost always followed - everyone liked the others' more than theirs' and everyone shared theirs' (I think the first does guarantee the second!)

This would be a list of whatever I can recollect about our tiffin boxes -

• Starting off the with the most famous - Idli's idlis - for almost 3 - 4yrs everyone saw the same thing... no wonder he looked like one! Then there were the 'kutty idlis with a fork' of Naresh - more popularly known as 'button idlis' as Idli had named them... not to forget the leg-touch game we used to play just outside the class!

• Next best according to me was Uppi's huge box - which weighed more than the books in his bag and he weighed less than anyone in the class! The most remembered of his was the dosa.. he continued his legacy with serving us dosa on our trip to Shirdi (Note: He made / cooked / .. them!)

• Then my box - most awaited was the biryani! It didn't come very often but when it came it used to turn me into a sprinter and Uppi & Vijju into businessmen... It is true that I was forgiven for an overthrow in a cricket match the moment these guys came to know that I had brought biryani! I think this continues to be the dish everyone likes even now.. Uday keeps telling me that... next time all of us meet at my home with a huge dish full!
  

• Uday's and Sastry's most common - chappati with pickle - both of them ate very less of what they brought! Uday used to get a huge hot pack when ever we went out for some competition. Out of the 3 in our team he was the most sincere one opening the box first... but as a ritual, he used to eat just 2 spoons of whatever he brought (most often - lemon rice) and then used to survive on LAYS for the rest of the day... he made me eat so much of LAYS that, what was once a hatred is now a liking!

• Arvind's box in box - his was the most unique one... a rectangular box having another rectangular box for the curry... mostly chappati with a curry (I don't know what they call it) which almost everyone liked..

• The most famous incident - Vijju dashed into *******'s brother on the staircase and said saale... everyone of us followed... Vijju meant it!!!! For further details contact Vijju - vijay7287@gmail.com

• The most infamous incident - Class 2 - I was being chased by Tija for a share in my box... running and fell onto a concrete block... deep cut on the head... severe bleeding. Most irritating of all - the never ending lecture by one of the teachers!
  

• The daily routine - Get out of the class.. check how many stairs each can jump at a time... run to the ground, put all the boxes opened on the wall... eat whatever you want, clean up all boxes.. go play football!

• The best use - If you can't tackle, throw the box at the ball... while playing football with the small ball! Most of our boxes were shapeless because of these... ramuk yaniv, ramu, uday, vijju, tija, kozi... were among the most popular at this art. I had tried it only twice.. once I missed it by a huge distance and the second time I hit Naveen straight on his knee... that was the only time I ever saw him angry!

Other participants included pp, purri, tarun, nikhil, nili, laxmikanth, srikanth, twins... unfortunately I don't remember much of their tiffin box stories! Laxmikanth had to listen to our complaints about Mrs.Veenarani everyday during the break... after all, she was his aunt..

I am sure I had missed a lot..

This was the last post of the year..
Happy New Year! May it bring in loads of joy and memories..

--buddi
2359
29 - 12 - 2008

The time with you

The time with you

All the time I spent with you
all that I wished I did
when questioned, 'why?'
I had to say, 'why question why?'

One day you would be far
a hard truth to take
One day you would be someone big
a thing that would come true

Things would change forever
I know you would still be the same for me
every moment of these meetings
would be lived again!!

I just want more of these
always into a confusion
do I disturb her, may be some other time...
may be the time would never come again...

It does pain, a tough decision to make
but as I think over again
I agree I spend lots of time
with her, with her memories

What more do I want
I know mine, all reason is a lie
just followed my heart
need I say more.

But when you question, 'why?'
I would still be the same
worn-out guy I was

--buddi
0120
15 - 09 – 2008

A New Place...

3. To the land where I belong

I had stepped into an puddle and slipped... I fell flat. I was sure I had a bleeding knee. As the last the boogie went past me... I could see shocked faces staring at me...

The good thing at this age is that, though you are physically much weaker you are mentally much stronger, there is nothing new... be it people staring at you, shouting at you, throwing suggestions, these wounds, Oh.. I have had many many wounds and this was no different! Slowly I helped myself up and quickly collected my baggage. As I was doing someone came running to me, "Ayyo, ayyo!!"... .

The man seemed to be the station master. He sounded very concerned. He quickly helped me find some shelter... I was taking my time. The thoughts of the fall were still running in the back of my mind and wasn't really concentrating what was being told to me. Innumerable questions were thrown at me, the one that made sense was about why I got down there. Meanwhile I pulled out a towel from my bag and wiped off all the mud and used some water to clean up the wound. I knew this was the first of many to come. Not a bad start, I thought. I was waiitng for the rain to slow down a bit... meanwhile there was a quick flash of thoughts of how I started out... I was lost in those thoughts.

I was suddenly disturbed by a lightning, as if to tell me that I had some work to do. I had fallen asleep, a short pleasant one. The station master was gone. The platform looked absolutely deserted. Now I had to start, I was getting late. As I made my way into the water outside the so-called station, I looked for some transport facilities. Absolutely nothing... Oh God! why did I get down here... This thought was a bit painful one. Repent - the one thing that can kill anyone! It feels good to give a comment on every feeling of fine but in the end I don't want to become some whom I hate...

Almost no human movement was visible.. except for a small group of people having some tea about a 50 metres from where I was. The very thought I might get something to eat made me feel hungry. I did find some idlis lying in the hot pack but the neatness wasn't very pleasing... as I was having my breakfast I was observing how those tea glasses were being washed and put back into use. The thought that tea will be served in those was making me feeling uncomfortable. Aah! I was getting to those old days... no.. not any more. But I have to accept that immaterial of how the food was served, I did enjoy the food.

Then I took a road, which seemed to be the only one, hoping that I will find something... on the way I inquired from a few people but their answers were not very encouraging. As I was trying hard to convince my old legs to keep going I found some help. I met some one who changed the course of my journey. I met some one whom I believed right from our first meeting... not a friend of mine, someone different!

--buddi

0347

08 - 12 - 2008

A piece from a poet

Courtesy: Internet

A piece from a poet

I had been writing for long now,
the idea of stopping not around,
pretty interesting so far,
riding on someone's glory, an easy work...

I enjoyed being called a poet
I lived every bit of it
but as it hits me now,
what is there, that was truly mine?

Loads of improper phrases thrown around
lines which were far from complete
reading in between never being possible
every bit I claimed that just falls off

But there is beauty in what I write
I agree gladly when someone says that
they are right, there is beauty
not in those broken lines!

There is beauty in the inspiration
there is beauty in the soul,
the ones that keep it 'a piece'
the ones about whom I write

All I write has never been mine
all of it just a stack full of views
and I still wait for 'my best'
the pen moves ahead.

A long distance to go yet,
before I reach 'my best',
'my best' that defines my quest -
'a piece' that has everything I want to write,
something so complete,
that I would have nothing left to write again

That I would call would be
the 'true piece' from this poet
and I know you wouldn't leave it so simple!!
Yet, the pen moves ahead
and the search continues...

--buddi
0721
19 - 09 - 2008