No Room for Dabha

By Raja Pai

No room for dabha is a story of a young man Vithal Hegde, who together with his two friends Peter and Irfan of different backgrounds - religious and cultural - are having an easy time going through college. Working together on assignments and meeting afterwards, they could spend hours talking about anything and everything but doing little.
However the good times are cut short for Vithal, whose fathers sudden death throws the burden of supporting his mother and sister on his young shoulders.
Forced to take up his fathers job of dabhawala, Vithal bravely accepts the challenge, gives up college and starts work. When corruption and general apathy is ruining the business of his friend Irfans father and the other businesses in the neighborhood as well, they rally the public to bring the corruption to an end. With this success Vithal realizes the many things we do that are necessary and the many things we do that are unnecessary and wasteful and that includes his job as dabhawala as well. The events and the experience they gain makes them accept that human nature being what it is, success is never permanent. So to find answers to the various problems confronting their world, the three friends go on a holiday, to see how others live and perhaps to learn from their mistakes and get a perspective about their own lives as well.
Their experiences and their successes in surviving makes a story that earns them a jackpot that will enable them to pursue their dream.
A powerful tale of one persons ability to make a difference Kirkus Review

Nicely written in simple language Reader comments

A book that makes you jump out of bed and pursue all your wildest dreams Reader comments

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Dec 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482828979

Raja Pai

Born in 1939 in the small town of Mangalore to a Catholic family, the author studied in Mangalore and later in Bombay. After school, college and apprenticeship in an earthmoving company in Bombay, now Mumbai, went on to work in Dubai, Bahrain and Perth Western Australia as an Instructor and trouble shooter on caterpillar equipment. Now retired and a grandfather lives in Perth.

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Copyright © 2014 by Raja Pai.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

All good things come to an end!

My life as a dabhawala

Bad things also have an end!

The day of reckoning

The aftermath

Business as usual

A New life from 9 to 5

The Adventure begins

Oh! What a night!

Our island in the sun!

All’s well that ends well

About the Author

About this book from the Author

Acknowledgments

T hanks to my niece Anita, a busy mother of 8 children, who responded to my request and got the photos of dabhawalas going about their daily work. Thanks also to my friend Joshua Creado who adapted the selected photo for the cover page. Finally thanks to all my friends and relatives whose experiences and behaviour influenced this story and provided the background to make the tale as real as poss ible.

And lastly and most importantly, thanks to my wife Dahlia who endured and encouraged

my effort at writing and always had something helpful, useful and supportive

to say!

Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it

A quote by Buddha

Preface

I t is said life is not a destination but a journey and when the journey nears the end, one may ask: Did I spend my time well? Was there any purpose and did I make a difference? With this in mind, the three main players in this story are living their daily lives questioning the things they do and indeed find that many things they do are not required to be done and that things that they or the others – the society in general should be doing are just not done. How they go about changing their lives and making a difference is a story which I hope you will find interesting, enjoyable, better yet motivating. An unexamined life is not worth living said Socrates—the ancient Philosopher and thinker. So also is your life if it is lived without any pur pose.

All good things come to an end!

I t was a dog of a day! Everything was running late and I was late. Working as a dabhawala, being late was frowned upon by my old supervisor, but then it was out of my control. It was now 6PM. All the dabhas or Tiffin’s should have been delivered back to their homes but here I was still sitting in the train’s luggage compartment, waiting for the train to move. The rains this time had caused the disruption. I had got up on time to the sound of the tiny alarm on my sturdy Seiko watch my father somehow had got for me on my 21 st birthday. I still remembered that day. Hope was in the air and a bright future was within my grasp. I had passed my college exams and in a year’s time I would graduate and then I hoped I would be able to get a job as a salesman or as a medical representative for a pharmaceutical company. My friend Peter knew someone and had promised to help. My hard working father working as a dabhawala had saved and had done without common luxuries to pay for my education and of course for the watch. All that was now water under the bridge! Under the Mahim bridge! It was that fateful night about a year ago just after my 21 st birthday that these series of events took p lace.

My father had got up with severe chest pains. My mother was in a panic. Being young, I did not quite understand what was happening. Anyway, I had gone out and quickly got a rickshaw. On the way to the local municipal hospital, suddenly he turned to me and grabbed me by his hands and said son look after your mother and your little sister. Somehow he had guessed that he was going to die. When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor checked him out and pronounced him dead. When I look back, tears come to my eyes. In my immaturity, I had nothing to say to my dying father, nothing at all to comfort or thank him for his hard work and for his dedication. When there was any problem he was always there, always cheerful. Not educated, not smart in the ways of the world, he was too me, however, a good father who did his best. Now he was gone.

There were some hard decisions to be made. Suddenly I had to change from an immature and carefree college undergraduate with friends just as immature and carefree to a young man burdened with problems and with no easy way out. Money had to be found for the burial of my father. The party doing the cremating which is the Hindu custom wanted 5000 rupees. My mother went pleading for some discount. I had to do something. I went to my father’s supervisor and introduced myself Sir, I am Vithal Hegde son of Pramod Hegde Powarji immediately got up and joined his hands in sympathy and then said I am very sorry, we are all very sorry. I found Powarji to be a polite and an understanding man. He took me aside from the small busy office he was running and once outside, he asked me my plans. He knew that with my father gone, there was no other source of income. He knew the problem my mother, my little sister and I were in, and I could see that he wanted to help.

When I asked him for some assistance for the funeral expense, he seemed to be thinking of other things even more important. Tell me he said "if I give this amount to you to pay for the funeral, what about the other expenses you and your family are going to have? Who is going to pay for all that? What are your plans? Are you going to continue with your studies?

Here I was standing by the roadside with people and rickshaws passing by, the usual noise, horns blaring, people talking and I was thinking what to say to the important questions thrown at me by this kind and understanding old man, my father’s Mukhadam. He was looking at me keenly for my response and I could see that he had some idea of the turmoil and the conflict going on inside my head. A man who according to my father, believed in hard and honest work and who could get things done, that was what my father said about Powarji and which was a key to his success as a supervisor. One cannot work for an organization that prides itself on delivering their product – the tiffins on time and without errors without this quality of working out a solution. So on this issue as well, Powarji was looking for a solution and hoping to find one that would help us in our hour of need.

It was only years later that I came to fully appreciate the fine qualities he showed at the time of my family tragedy. He knew that we had no other support. No social security, no insurance, no relations to help out and no money. That he was our only hope. He was the only one who perhaps could do something and he did not turn a blind eye to our pressing need.

He had turned to me tell me how much you need to manage the funeral beta? I was touched by his offer, even more by his soft utterance of the word beta or son to me. So equally softly I said, ji, 5000 rupees - will do, I hope. That’s what my mother had told me. To that Powarji said OK let me see what I can do and another thing, you will need to get a job, now that your father is no more. And I said, Yes Ji. The thought that I will now have to give up college and with it all my dreams was weighing heavily on me, but I could not see any way out. Of course I had not spoken till then to Peter or Irfan –my two friends in college. My two friends with whom, I spent hours in the Irani restaurant called Yacht Club" close to college having a bite of kheema pau or over just a cup of tea and sometimes in our college library collecting material for some project or assignment. In fact it was during a college assignment where we three were given an essay to write on the subject – why some countries can get things done and why some can’t - that we became good friends.

Those were also happy days and I wondered if they would ever come back again. Besides studies and solving academic problems with discussion and sharing of information, there were many other things we talked about as well. We could sometimes sit for hours talking about anything and everything. We might have belonged to different religions and different cultures but nothing was taboo. We did not worry too much about tomorrow. There was nothing much we had. That lack of possessions perhaps also made us easy going and care free.

Powarji was looking at me with his steady but kind fatherly gaze waiting patiently for me to continue. So I said yes I need a job but I don’t know what job to apply for. Powarji now looked at me intently Look beta, he said with his kind voice that I was getting used to. If you want a job you need to have interest in the job that you want to do. Without interest, you will not be able to get a job and if you by chance get one, you will not be able to hold on to it for long. So think about what interests you and what role you can play. In the meanwhile I will check on your request for help regarding your father’s funeral expense and if you are interested in applying for a job at Dabhawalas, let me know. With that he had walked off.

In a few short words, he had stated what took me a long time to appreciate. First- You need to have interest in what you are doing and second- you need to apply or ask for a position you want before you are given that job. I think he said this because if you are given something without asking and without trying then you will not have the perseverance that is required if things don’t work out as expected. And lastly he made no promises and so there was no building up of false hopes.

Next morning I had a call from Powarji. The cheque for Rs 5000/- is ready. Please come and collect. Powarji had delivered. Not being sure what the Dabawala trust would decide, he had earlier said let me see what I can do and so I could see he was careful in what he said.

With the money, the funeral arrangements were made. And on the day, my mother, my sister Sita and I dressed in our best clothes and together with our neighbors and Powarji and all the dabhawalas gathered at the funeral pyre. After the temple priest had chanted his prayers, I lit the pyre and watched as the flames caught on and consigned my dear father to eternal rest and peace.

Soon after the funeral, I had made it a point to see my friends Peter and Irfan. Although they had come for the funeral ceremony, I did not have any chance to speak to them with all the other people around. I knew that they would probably be in the college library, and so I had gone there, and yes they were deep in conversation. When they saw me, they showed a lot of concern and they had many questions to ask. What are my plans? How are you managing? Do you have money? Am I coming back to college? And so on.

Indeed I was surprised not only by the number of questions, but also by their well meaning intentions. They were probing questions which in our very sedate and conservative upbringing we usually never asked. No doubt we spoke about many things but with limited knowledge our topics were also limited. The meaningful and thoughtful questions they were now asking required meaningful and thoughtful replies. It was as if the three of us had entered another world, an adult world where serious issues had to be seriously dealt with and where failure to do what is needed may result in not being able to eat or find shelter or even to survive. Suddenly there was this feeling that had come over me - I am now in charge of my own and my family’s future and that I better change my response to this new world and get serious.

If only life could follow our dreams! I always had dreams. When my father moved from our small village near Nasik to work in Mumbai for the Dabawala trust, I longed for the village life now left behind. My grandmother lived in a proper house with a proper roof and we had many rooms. Outside there was a well and a compound with trees and plants and sometimes the plants had flowers. Drawing water from the well, his father would ask him to water some of these plants and he enjoyed doing these simple tasks. Also there were fowls and ducks to feed and eggs to collect. In a small outhouse there was a cow and a goat and my grandmother would go down to feed the cow and the goat and for milking the cow as well. Sometimes I would help with the feeding and do other odd jobs that were required to be done.

Looking back this was heaven on earth that I had no way of going back except in my dreams. Living in the chawl, it was almost a hut, I realized that life has forever changed and there was no way to go back. But in my dreams, there was no such restraint. Whenever my mother took me to the small temple to pray, whilst she was busy doing the pooja, sitting there, my mind would switch over to my life in grandmother’s house and all the different things I could do. All the happy moments that I had and all the wonderful things I could do on the farm. My mind would invent things – like water being pulled from the well by our house dog or ploughing the field using the goat we had, and so forth. All this dreaming no doubt helped in passing of time, more importantly I think it kept me going despite the hard and the sad life that I was abruptly thrown in. It made life so much more bearable.

No doubt it was an escape, but I was too young to know that. An escape from the miserable surroundings and living a life that was without much joy or fun. I was too young to worry too long. Too young also to change the way of life that I found myself in and so the dreaming continued.

I was growing up, I had finished school and my hard working father realizing that the lack of education had prevented him from taking up any other job, had made his son go to college. Not sure what subjects to take and the absence of any meaningful advice, I had taken the subjects where getting entry was not difficult. So I started with the arts which after 4 years would not really prepare me for any meaningful job but would enable me to say that I am a graduate. When my father died even that hope or that achievement seemed out of reach, or so it seemed.

We had gone to our usual restaurant –The yacht Club in Bandra and we had ordered the usual cup of teas. And I remember the questions my friends were asking. Yes, I would have to give up college. Yes, I would have to take up a job. Yes, the only job that I may be able to get in these difficult times, that is if I tried was take up my father’s work and be a Dabhawala. I remembered Powarji. He had not really offered me the job. He had only promised that should I apply, he would be able to recommend me to the Dabhawala Trust. Looking back I realized again that as a good supervisor, he wanted me to ask for the job by applying for it. To realize that having asked for it I would try my best to succeed at doing it properly.

When the teas finally came, I had made my decision and told Peter and Irfan that I have decided to be a dabhawala and take up my father’s job. They were aghast! Yes, completely surprised that I would apply to become a dabhawala. So much so that I said hey you guys are you embarrassed about having a dabhawala friend? Nothing like that yar said Peter we just want you to do what is best for you. Yes said Irfan We want you to take a job where you can rise – rise through the ranks – haven’t you thought of that? Where can you rise with this dabhawala job yar? Where? Another thing said Peter, you are almost a graduate. Do they have graduate dabhawalas? You would be more qualified then all those duffers you would be taking the tiffins to man?

I could see they were angry. I could see that if I became a dabhawala, it would diminish their standing as well. After all, we were all in the same college doing the same studies and if all they could look forward to was a lowly job that I was going to apply for, where did that put them. It was all very confusing. It was making them sad and angry and I was feeling their hurt but unable to do anything about it.

Both Peter and Irfan, whilst they were studying, they were also helping in the family business. Peter was helping his father in the rental furniture business. His father had a large inventory of chairs, tables, cutlery, etc that he would give on rent for functions such as weddings and parties or even funerals – wherever people were coming together in celebration or in mourning. There was always, loading and unloading, cleaning, repairing, fixing, carpentry, etc and Peter would help out whenever he was free from college. Iran’s father had a meat shop and here Irfan would spend some time helping with work, such as cutting meat or making Kheema as required. Also keeping books and maintaining the accounts.

I had to reassure them. So I had said Don’t worry too much yar. It is all going to be a short term thing. Once I am settled down and made some money and got the hang of the job, I will re-apply for college as an external student, work hard and graduate and after that I would be able to get a better job. That seemed to calm them down and we went back to our usual camaraderie.

We had finished tea and we got up to go. Let us know how it goes said Peter. Yeah said Irfan don’t forget to call us if the dabhas cannot be delivered because of some strike or bandh or something Irfan was back to his jokes. Call us to finish off the food in the dabhas! We will have a party!

Yes, you want everything free! I could see things were almost back to normal with my friends.

There were things to do. First, I had to resign from my college. When I handed over my resignation letter to the deputy Principal, he read it and then he called his supervisor the Principal on the phone and they spoke for some time about my predicament and then he put the phone down and said the Principal wants to see me. I was surprised. The Principal was a very busy man and for him to ask to see me made me nervous. The deputy Principal accompanied me and we both walked to his office. When we entered he got up and warmly shook my hand and the deputy Principal’s hand as well. He asked us to sit down and he asked me my plans and when I told him that I intend doing my father’s job –of being a dabbawala, he shook his head in sort of disbelief, however, he soon recovered. You know he said a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. If you are getting a job, any job, take it because times are bad. Once you got a job, you are making some money and that will help. Also with this job you would be going to companies, meeting people, getting to know people who can help. You are young and you are healthy, so go for it and if you get a chance finish your degree. It will help and remember this; iron is put through fire to become steel, so too we have to go through tough times to bring out the best in us. When after many years you look back, you will think of these years of your life as times that were challenging but very rewarding as well, because all these problems made you the person that you would have become! So go forth! Take up this job, work hard, study hard and don’t look back! Except if you want to come and see us. Our door will always be open to help you or guide you anyway we can. With that he got up shook my hand again warmly and said good bye.

I felt good. Here was a college Principal who urged me on and believed that I was doing the right thing. He was well respected and his opinions therefore were well regarded. Some of the things he told me I would always remember. The example of iron going through fire to become steel was one. He thought that my decision to work as a Dabhawala was right and that helped my resolve. So I had decided to go and see my dad’s supervisor Powarji the very next day.

The next day after a shave and a bath using just a bucket of water which my mother had gone and fetched from the municipal tap, I had dressed up in a simple white shirt and a Khaki pant and put on my father’s Gandhi cap and had gone to the Dabhawala office. There I had found Powarji sitting in the corner and going over the accounts in his quiet but efficient way. He had stopped when he saw me, taken out his glasses and folded his hands in greeting. Ram Ram he said and I replied with Ram Ram ji!

Yes Vithal, what can I do for you? he said and I replied Powarji, I want a job. I want to be a Dabhawala He seemed surprised but he quickly recovered. "As your father was a Dabhawala, I do not have to tell you because you already know. It is a very tough job, the pay is small and the hours are long. That is on one side. On the other side is the fact that we are like a family, we work as a team, we help one another, we share our work and we share our profits. We also think we are doing something useful. Delivering home cooked food to their loved ones. To our customers from their loved ones at home, we are doing a service. We look upon being a dabhawala as a honor, a life spent in service to others in the best tradition of our ancient faith! So when you say you want to become a Dabhawala, I want you to know that it is not something that you will get because, you say you want the job. You will first need to apply. The application will go to the Trust and they will go through it and then decide whether to call you for the interview or not. Now because your father worked and worked well for the Trust, it would be right for me to show our appreciation and recommend that you are called. However, getting the job is up to the Trust Committee and you would have to impress them about your ability to do what the job demands. There will be no other considerations.

And so, I had sat down in a corner and started filling the application form that he had given me. I was impressed. Here was a small lowly Dabhawala trust with proper business ethics that in college, we thought only big companies and corporations only spoke about but rarely practiced.

It was a simple basic form and not many details were requested. In about half an hour I had completed it and after going over it to check for any mistakes or omissions, I signed it and handed it over to Powarji. He gave it a quick check, found everything OK and said to me good job. Then he took a page from a note pad and wrote on it – This is the application of Vithal Hegde son of Pramod Hegde. Please review and let me know. Thanks – Powar. He then put his note and my application in an envelope and marked it to the trust and put it in the out tray. He then turned to me Vithal, thanks for coming. We will reply soon. Hope you will get the job. Good luck. With that he again folded his hands and said his good bye.

I had left with mixed feelings. I was happy that some progress was made about getting a job but sad that my dreams of graduating and landing a good job in a proper office had all gone out of the window. I felt sad not only for myself but also for my mother. She would be even more disappointed that her son on whom she had such high hopes, her own son who would deliver her daughter, her husband and herself from the poor and miserable conditions we were living in were now gone. So I felt very sad not so much for myself, but because my mother’s hope of a better life had gone as well.

When I had gone home, my mother was happy to see me come in. She was always happy to see both of us and she was always cheerful. She ran and got me a glass of sweet lime juice which she always prepared for me when I returned and today too it was there. She was happy with the small things in life and when I look back it was one of her virtues. Although our home was only a room in the slum, still coming home was to me a pleasure and it was due mainly to my mother.

When I entered, my mother somehow knew that something was up and so after giving me some time to have my drink in peace, she could not hold on anymore. So she says what happened today beta? So knowing that what I was going to tell was going to hurt her, I said – Aaee, I went looking for a job. She looks at me and says, where beta and I say to her to Mukhadam Powarji. My mother had a look of surprise and also of dismay. Why Powarji what job can he give you a college educated man like you? I have not finished college yet I replied. I am not a graduate. Another thing, even if I finish with the arts degree, what can I get? For any job, they want science or commerce or finance, no one wants an arts graduate Aaee!

So why did you take arts? I thought my mother would ask but she did not. She was too kind to ask these difficult questions, but she did persist about my visit to Dabhawala office to see Powarji. So what Powarji had to say my mother asked and I said Aaee, I asked him for a Dabhawala job. My mother’s face turned sad and I thought she was about to cry. So I said, Aaee, it’s only for the time being. I am not going to stop studying. I am going to finish my college degree. A sort of determination suddenly came over me. Yes, I am going to get my degree and maybe next year I will take an additional subject maybe economics. That will give me a chance to learn and perhaps get a job as well in a bank or some other company. My friend Peter told me he was going to do that as well. I added. That pacified my mother and she went back to her work with a worried look that slowly changed into a smile.

The next few days, having nothing else to do and also because I did not want to lose hope of getting my degree, I spent time in the college library reading. One magazine article impressed me the most, it asked the question why with so much technology and machinery helping humans to do the work that has to be done, there is still so much hunger and homelessness and poverty around? The author then went on to answer his own question saying that we people do so many unnecessary things and so the really important things are just not done. This got me thinking and perhaps it shaped my future.

A few days later, a letter arrived by post from the Dabhawala trust. It was a short note asking me to come to the office for an interview. On the appointed day, I dressed up, put on my ironed white shirt, Khaki pant and a white topi which belonged to my father. Took my school and college certificates and the library book I was reading as well. I was there ten minutes early knowing how important punctuality was to the dabhawala tradition. When I went inside the office there were already other applicants waiting to be interviewed. So I went outside and sat on a bench and went back to the book I was reading till I was called.

Finally, I was called before the Committee. There were three of them and their names were on placards in front of them. After the greetings and the ram rams, I was asked to sit down by Mr Patkar, the chairman. The interview then started. I had thought that this interview would be a simple matter of the superiors meeting me and then answering some simple questions but it was quite different to what I had assumed. It started with simple questions like my name and age and what I was doing till now and I answered all that, telling them that my plans for a college degree were cut short by my father’s demise and that I intended to finish my college education by going to night classes and I thought they were sympathetic to that. Now the other questions started. Mr Patkar asked Do you like to work independently or as part of a team?

I knew that team work was very important to the Dabhawala organization so I said To work as a team Sir I answered ‘And why is that? asked Mr Shinde and I answered Sir because, I know that we can accomplish so much more, also we can share our thoughts and Ideas and then we can use the best idea or carry out the best procedure as a result of our discussions. They seemed to appreciate my answer and they moved on to the next question. Mr Patkar asked What do you like about the Dabhawala organization? Now this was the real question for which I thought I must have a convincing answer, and a question I had already had given some thought because I had a feeling that they would ask and so I was ready. Sir, I believe that the Dabhawala organization is doing a great job by delivering home cooked meals to customers at their place of work. That customers can eat wholesome food that will keep them healthy, cooked by their family or friends that they trust is something that only the Dabhawala organization working as a team can deliver".

There were no further questions. Mr Patkar thanked me for coming and asked me to sit outside whilst they discussed. I sat outside picked up a magazine that was on the table and started reading which I enjoyed anyway. There was an article on why Indian companies cannot compete? Which interested me and the author was giving his evaluation of the problem which he mentioned was the undue importance given to short term results and to the value of the stock price. The stock price that he said was the main focus of the managers today. Improving the training, the team spirit, the motivation and the general infrastructure was given little attention. His point about the poor infrastructure, the time it takes to move people, goods and services in India is, he said, is too long. Further he said we Indians spend too much time doing things that are unnecessary. This article reminded me of the earlier one I read and was very interesting but I had to cut short because I was called in. Mr Patkar was smiling and he came to the point right away. He said Vithal, we are happy to give you the position. You will have to start as soon as possible. Please meet with Mr Powarji and he will tell what you need to do. Also he will give you the details of your salary, bonus and how bonus is calculated and any other details. He got up and shook my hands and the others followed. I said Thank you sir "and went outside to wait for Mr Powar.

I had to wait another hour for Mr Powar to finish and then he saw me and handed me a letter confirming my job and details of salary, bonus calculation, etc. He then went straight to what I need to do. My team leader would help me get started and he would also give me some on –the –job training. I already had a cycle –my father’s and some of the other things as well that I needed. The die was cast. My job as Dabhawala would soon begin. How to tell my mother was my biggest worry as I started going home.

My life as a dabhawala

I started in earnest to get ready. My mother however had that sad look on her whilst I was busy getting things organised. One day I saw her crying. When I asked what had happened, she would not tell me at first but after sometime she said she could see me struggling with the crate on my head carrying all those tiffins. The very thought brought tears to her eyes. Oh Ram Ram! Why things had to be so difficult for my son she sighed. My sister had no such worries. She was as usual trying to be funny. Vithal dada you think you are strong like dada to carry all those dabhas? I know what you will do. You will make someone else carry when going and only carry the empty ones coming back! And how will I do that mere gada bain! I asked her. I was quite amazed that on one side my mother was so sad and on the other my sister so playful. Maybe she was putting on a brave act but I did not know for sure.

When I was ready for the job, I went and met Powarji who immediately started getting all the changes required in the system and in the allocation of the other key dabhawalas to get me in the role. Powarji as usual took care of the details and so I learnt very early that getting anything done properly, the details got to be properly worked out in advance. He also told me that for 2 weeks I would be on training on half pay. I would be working with another Dabhawala doing his work and under his supervision. It would also enable me to get practice carrying the heavy tiffin crate on my head. I should start with small loads progressing to bigger ones as my neck and back muscles get used to the demands of this job.

So without ceremony and without delay, I started working. The first few days, I assisted my mentor and associate Gobi with collecting the tiffins on my cycle and loading it all on the crate in the mornings or removing from the crate and delivering them to the homes they were taken from. Learning all the ways and means of identification and efficient handling, getting the dabhas to move on crowded streets, always being alert, these and many other things I learnt from Gopi. He was a quiet man with a sad look and I wondered what went on inside, but in the hustle and bustle of life, there was no time to worry. You did what had to be done. Work, hard work kept us from worrying!

So the two weeks passed and then I was on my own. Starting mid morning, from customer’s homes carrying tiffins, loading them on to my cycle, going up and down buildings, then cycling to Bandra Railway station, then joining other teams, loading crates and carrying them up and down stairs to the platform and loading them into the luggage compartment and on the other end working in reverse mode to finally deposit each tiffin coming from different places and handled by different dabhawalas in the office or factory of the customer and doing the same things again after about two hours to finally transfer the empty tiffin to the home late in the evening. A small parcel of food in a container for a customer would make this intricate journey every day.

Time flies when you are busy. Also even difficult or repetitive work becomes bearable and interesting when you believe you are doing something meaningful and something that is earning you money to look after your family. Yes, with the money my mother was able to pay the bills and that gave me a great deal of satisfaction and also I thought that the work I did, at the time, was important.

Days, weeks and months had passed by and I had the hang of the job. Also my legs, arms and back were now strong and I realized this job besides earning me the money required to live, had also made me strong mentally and physically. As someone said, the world does not owe us a living, we have to work for it and I had work to do.

All these things went through my mind as the delayed train on this rainy day slowly creeped into Bandra station. The last rite of the day, delivering the dabhas back to the customers could now begin.

One Saturday evening, I went to meet my friends Peter and Irfan. They were sitting down in our usual place in the usual restaurant. The usual jokes and laughter was missing. It was as if we had changed gears in our lives. They were in their final year at college and they too would be looking for work. It was as if the fun days were over. It was time for serious work and the future was not looking too good.

How’s work? Asked Peter, the moment I sat down. I said fine

That’s all – fine said Irfan. Man you are doing a job that is so hard, so different to what I thought you would do in life and all you say is – fine

"Irfan, I know what you mean. The job indeed is tough and it is not the job I myself would have chosen, if I had a choice. With my father’s death, I have a responsibility and so I had to take this job. Having taken, I must not let them down. I must not let the Mukhadam Powarji down. So I am working as hard as possible both for my family’s sake, for the mukhadam’s sake and for my sake as well.