Read Online The Tiffin by Mahtab Narsimhan - Free Book Online Page B

and the sunshine lost some of its golden sheen. He had hidden the letter Mrs. Seth had thrust at him, unable to show it to Vinayak last night. It was his mother’s and he wanted to read it first. And he had, standing in the tiny bathroom in Vinayak’s room. The short letter revealed so much: the mistake his mother had made as a teenager by getting pregnant out of wedlock; his father’s name; how he had ended up with Mrs. Seth; but above all, the fact that his mother loved him.
    But why hadn’t she returned in a week? What happened? Did she find his father? Were they together now? The one week had turned into thirteen years and she still hadn’t returned. There were so many questions and no answers.
    His thoughts turned to Mrs. Seth. How must she have felt, saddled with a child she hadn’t even asked for? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of her as he’d fled the dhaba. Her piercing shriek still echoed in his ears.Was she all right?
    He slipped the green bangle from his pocket and ran his fingers over its glassy surface. Mrs. Seth had given him something to hold on to, something to believe in even though she had lost all hope that his mother, her friend, would ever return.And for a moment he was glad she had lied.That green bangle had helped him through many a dark moment. And then there was the money she had given him last night. In her own way she had loved him and he would never get the chance to thank her. He blinked back tears that threatened to spill out.
    But he had to look for his mother now. He had to find out the truth, no matter how painful. He couldn’t live with a lie any longer. And no matter how many A. Patels there were in Bombay, he would find the right one, even if it took him forever.
    Unable to sit still, he got to his feet. It was still early, only seven in the morning by Vinayak’s old watch that lay on the floor beside his cot, but already the heat had bite. Cool tile pressed against the soles of his feet as he padded to the window and looked out at the chawl.
    The U-shaped building embraced a bare patch of earth with a lone, scraggly tree. Impaled on its topmost branch were the tattered remains of a red kite.Women were lining up near the communal tap in the centre of the yard to stock up on water before the supply was cut off for the day. Plastic buckets lay scattered around them like colourful flowers. They gossiped and laughed as they awaited their turn.
    Kunal pushed his face against the bars and peered out. On either side, doors lined the corridor as far as he could see. A balcony with steel railings ran the length of the narrow corridor overlooking the courtyard. In front of every room, an assortment of clothes hung from flimsy lines attached to the railing.
    â€œYou okay?” said Vinayak softly.
    Kunal started and turned around.
    Vinayak lay in bed, cradling his head in his hands, watching him.
    â€œI think so,” said Kunal.
    A comfortable silence stretched between them.
    â€œDo you want to talk about last night?” asked Vinayak. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “You seemed very upset. Why did you run back?”
    Kunal shook his head, annoyed at the sudden lump in his throat. He wasn’t ready to talk about this yet, not even with Vinayak. He glanced out the window and asked the first question that popped into his head. “How many people live in this chawl?”
    â€œIt was made for about a hundred people but three hundred actually live here,” said Vinayak.
    â€œI see,” said Kunal. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    A man dressed in a holey vest and shorts walked past the window with a mug of water and a newspaper tucked under his arm. His eyes flicked towards Kunal briefly as he passed. Within minutes, another walked past. He too was carrying a mug of water and a newspaper.
    Kunal looked at Vinayak. “Surely they’re not going to the station for ... to ... er ... you