Meenakshi S Tiffin

Kutty mujhe pehle route mein hi dikhi thi, lekin pehchaan baar-baar milne se banti hai. Woh 12 saal ki, patli si ladki, school dress mein kabhi ek sleeve neeche, kabhi ek baal khula hua. Uski aankhen hamesha sawal se bhari hoti hain. Aise bachche jo apni curiosity ko chupane ka dhang abhi seekhe nahi hote.

Pehli baar usne mujhe Anna Salai ke traffic ke paas roka tha. Main ek building mein tiffin dekar nikal rahi thi.

“Aunty, aap roz itne dabbe kaise uthati ho?” usne poocha.

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Aadat se.”

“Par ek hi dabbe mein itna khana kaise fit hota hai?”

Main hansi. “Fit nahi hota. Isliye toh carrier chahiye.”

Woh chhoti si smile ke saath mere bag ke side mein latke chhote spoon ko dekhne lagi. “Aapko route yaad kaise rehta hai?”

“Road yaad nahi rehta,” main boli. “Log yaad rehte hain. Kaun kahan milta hai, kaun kitna waqt leta hai, kaun bina bole paani de deta hai.”

Kutty ne aankhen badi ki. “Main bhi yaad rakh sakti hoon?”

“Kyoon nahi?”

Tab se woh kabhi kabhi route pe mil jaati. School se aate hue, kabhi cycle ke saath, kabhi footpath par skip karte hue. Main usse naam se pehchaanne lagi, usne mujhe “Tiffin akka” se “Meenakshi akka” tak la diya.

Ek din woh mere saath thodi der chalti rahi. “Aap hamesha idhar se kyun mudti ho?”

“Yahan shade milta hai,” main boli.

“Bas itna?”

“Bas itna nahi. Idhar bakery hai. Lunch ke baad kabhi kabhi bun ka smell accha lagta hai. Aur police chowki ke paas se seedha jao toh log stare karte hain. Main jaldi se kaam karna pasand karti hoon.”

Kutty ne serious hokar suna. Bacche kabhi kabhi bade logon se zyada dhyaan se sunte hain, kyunki unke paas abhi cynicism ka filter nahi hota.

“Main aapka kaam seekh sakti hoon?” usne achanak poocha.

Main thodi der chup rahi. “Kaam?”

“Ha. Matlab tiffin dena, route yaad rakhna, aur sambar ka raaz.”

“Mujhe raaz hi nahi pata toh tujhe kya sikhaun?”

Woh hass padi. “Phir bhi. Main notes banaungi.”

Usne apni pocket se ek chhota sa notebook nikala. Cover pe blue pen se likha tha: Kutty’s Notes. Usne usmein likha—“Meenakshi akka: carrier ka lid band karne se pehle hamesha check karti hain ki pickle seedha hai ya nahi.”

Maine dekha toh shaant sa shock hua. “Tu sab likhti hai?”

“Ha. Aur aap din mein kitni baar ‘bas’ bolti ho, woh bhi count kar rahi hoon.”

“Arre?” main bol padi, aur woh zor se hansi.

Main uski hansi mein apni bahut purani hasi sun sakti thi. Shayad woh waqt jab main bhi kisi kaam ko chhota nahi, interesting samajhti thi. Jab main school se aake amma ke saath idli batter phenti thi aur sochti thi ki kitchen ek chhota sa universe hai.

Kutty ne ek din kaha, “Aapko gussa nahi aata?”

Main bina soche bol diya, “Aata hai.”

“Phir kya karti ho?”

“Carrier uthati hoon.”

Woh confuse ho gayi. “Gussa aur carrier?”

“Ha. Gussa bhi kahi na kahi pahunchana padta hai. Agar andar rakho toh kharab ho jaata hai.”

Kutty ne yeh baat notebook mein likh li. Main dekh kar hansi. “Mera dialogue chura rahi hai?”

“Teacher ka quote hota hai,” woh bola karte hue seedhi khadi ho gayi. “Main aapki student hoon na.”

Student. Yeh shabd bhi ajeeb tha. Main jo zindagi mein sirf duty se chalti rahi, usmein ek bacchi mujhe teacher bana rahi thi.

Ek din usne meri carrier ko haath nahi lagaya, bas side se dekhte hue bola, “Akka, aapka kaam chhota nahi hai.”

Maine usse dekha. “Kaun bola?”

“Log bolte hain na. Mummy ke office mein bhi. Kaam chhota, kaam bada.”

Main dheere se boli, “Log bahut kuch bolte hain.”

Kutty ne notebook band ki. “Par main jo dekhti hoon, woh likhti hoon.”

Us din uski baat mere saath ghar tak chali.

Glass Cabin

Dr. Priya ke office ka boss, Mr. Raghavan, apne glass cabin mein baithta tha. 50 ke aas-paas, moustache neatly trimmed, aur tone mein hamesha aisa confidence jaise har room mein woh sabse zyada jaanne wala ho.

Ek din main tiffin dene gayi toh cabin ka door half-open tha. Priya kisi file par baat kar rahi thi. Main door ke paas ruk gayi.

“Lunch service aa gaya?” boss ne bina dekhte poocha.

Priya boli, “Haan sir. Meenakshi akka.”

Raghavan ne mujhe upar se neeche tak dekha, jaise main carrier ka extension hoon. “Yeh wahi small-time home food service hai?”

Priya ne halki si saans li. “Sir, inka food quality bahut achha hai.”

“Quality?” woh hansa. “Arre, yeh sab toh ghar ki ladies ka side business hota hai. Real work alag hota hai.”

Mere haath carrier handle par kas gaye. Real work. Jaise main jo subah chaar plate dosa, do sambar, teen chutney aur ek alag special order sambhalti hoon, woh kaam nahi.

Raghavan ne continued, “Office mein standards hone chahiye. Is tarah ka small work aa jaata hai toh log think karte hain we are compromising.”

Priya ki aankhen seedhi ho gayin. “Sir, compromise ka matlab food nahi hota.”

Boss ne uski taraf mudkar dekha, thoda annoyed. “Priya, aap emotional mat hoiye. Main bas business perspective se bol raha hoon.”

Business perspective. Mera lunch box business ka part nahi tha, bas unke liye ek line item.

Main andar tak sunn ho gayi. Priya ne carrier ka lid khola aur khud kuch spoon mein liya. “Sir, aap try kijiye. Phir boliye.”

Raghavan ne reluctantly ek bite liya. Main dekh rahi thi. Uska expression jaisi hi badla, woh aur bhi khafa ho gaya. Kyunki achha khana kabhi kabhi aadmi ki prejudice ko aur gussa dila deta hai.

“Hmm,” woh bola, jaise swad ko bhi apni marzi se accept kar raha ho. “Theek hai.”

Theek hai. Bas itna.

Phir usne mujhe dekha aur bola, “Aap yahan jab aa rahi hain toh reception se seedha aaya kijiye. Cabin area mein zyada idhar-udhar mat kariye. Staff ko disturbance hoti hai.”