The Tiffin Read Online Free

forget!”
    Kunal quailed at the expression on Sethji’s face.The dhaba was Sethji’s life and money was his God. Any harm to either and Sethji would be more dangerous than a rabid dog. And yet Kunal could not get himself to apologize.
    â€œSeth, this is ridiculous,” said Vinayak, who had appeared in their midst.“I know Kunal. He does not lie.This idiot must have started it.”
    Kunal glanced at Vinayak gratefully. No matter what, the dabbawalla always stood up for him. If only Sethji could have treated him with a little bit of respect rather than a slave he would have said he was sorry. But not now — not when he was being humiliated for no fault of his own.
    â€œWho the hell d’you think you are?” said the hulk. “Sethji, why is this old goat butting in?”
    â€œI’ll thank you to keep your long nose out of this,” snapped Sethji, glaring at Vinayak. “Go back to your table.”
    â€œIf you don’t handle this fairly,” said Vinayak in a cold voice, “I’ll have to talk to the Dabbawalla Association about finding another supplier for our customers’ tiffins.”
    Sethji’s eyes darted from the hulk to Vinayak. Sweat beaded his forehead. For a moment, no one spoke.
    â€œWhy is everyone standing around when there is work to be done?” said Mrs. Seth as she walked up to them briskly. “I’ll handle this.”
    Vinayak nodded and ambled back to his table. Sethji, visibly relieved, walked away to his perch behind the cash register. Mrs. Seth turned to face the hulk and stared up at him without flinching.
    â€œNo one mistreats our boys but us,” she said. “Don’t think I can’t tell the Truckers’ Union a thing or two about you. I wonder how long you’ll remain employed after that.”
    The hulk mumbled a curse and sat down as raucous laughter rippled through the packed dining room.
    â€œShut up!” he said. He thumped a fist on the table and glared at everyone.There was immediate silence.
    â€œAs for you,” Mrs. Seth said, turning to Kunal, “get back to work.You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.”
    Kunal started to walk away when Mrs. Seth hauled him back roughly.
Now what?
He thought.
    â€œStupid boy!” she hissed. “Watch out for the glass.”
    Kunal realized he had been about to step on the shards with bare feet. “Thank you!”
    â€œDon’t thank me,” she snapped. “You think I’m going to pay for a doctor if you cut your foot? Clean this mess up immediately.” She marched back to the kitchen.
    Kunal picked up the broken china and stood up. The hulk stuck his foot out and Kunal had no choice but to stop. His pulse raced as he looked into the trucker’s cold, black eyes. “Make me a laughing stock, will you?” he whispered. “I’ll get you, smart boy. Out there, when you least expect it. We’ll see who has the last laugh.”
    Kunal managed to walk back to the kitchen on shaky legs. He stayed there, feeling Badri’s eyes bore holes into his back, until the hulk left.

chapter three
    KUNAL WAITED IMPATIENTLY AS BADRI filled up all the tiffins with his concoctions, which varied on a daily basis. Today it was goat curry in the bottom box, masala eggplant with a dab of mango pickle in the middle one, and a dollop of rice with two chapatis in the topmost box. The kitchen helper cleaned the spills on the outside of the tiffins, slid them into their aluminum carriers, and snapped the clasps shut. Soon the tiffins were ready to make their journey to the station, and onward to the city centre.
    As Vinayak had explained to Kunal, they would change many hands before reaching their owners, sharp at noon. Two hundred thousand boxes would be delivered in this precise way, each and every day of the week. In three hours the dabbawallas would cover an area of almost forty miles, then make the reverse journey to