Finally I am eating the food cooked by my mom!!! the legen-wait for it-dary dabbawallas are to thank for this miracle of course.

Then again, all is not well. The person who maintains the tiffin delivery leg on my side is full of attitude. He is very strict in the sense that he would just keep the tiffins for my floor outside the lift. He wouldn’t even take a few steps it takes to keep it separately. The neighboring office ( jewelery shop or some such secret society )  houses some millions of noisy ladies and all of them get their own tiffins as well. The brainiac watchman just scoops up all the tiffins and takes them inside. By the time the error is discovered, the tiffin angel is back to collect them. He wouldn’t even wait for a few nano seconds, in case he would lose the race against photons….

Enough is enough sometimes. I had to rise to this matter of life and death. As the clock ticks towards one pm, my ears are perked up. Like a hunter in the jungle, I am sitting at a my place, without any movement.My focus flows in a zenlike state ( aided by the growing hunger of course). The second the lift door opens, I make out the difference in the noise made outside. After practicing and lots of false alarms, now I am a pro. This time the lift door opens with ‘THAT’ noise, I am already out, taking out my tiffin bag from the plethora of others strewn around. I sometimes catch the door closing…practice does make a man perfect…

Then, the sweet taste of victory lingers on my tongue…. not for long though, the tiffin needs to be out within half hour….

The race continues…

Take care…