A Lunch Box That Lost Innocence

This vestige, blotch of a by-gone era, Alive still as a wayside Tiffin House, A common most companion of many, Gotten of late it has people's odd grouse. Once a blue-collared Brit, now brown man's treat Much like many a colonial cousin, Tiffin box, a fully subscribed lunch-speak, Born a noun, now an adjective no mean! Of modest make or stainless steel case— A box— lid secured with straps either side, That food retains its flavours, unique face, Each box ah bolstered like a maid of bride. Comes when lunch time for myriads of keen maws, Bringing together men, many a shade— A spectrum nigh—community, caste, creed, Men of heart, but many a varied head! A bearer now of a blood-seeking bomb, This do-no-wrong box has gone sinister, Carried on cycles, scooters with aplomb, Ah carrier of a waiting disaster! A friend it once was of a famished maw, But now terror's foul face, unwitting friend, Bearer of blasts, disguised as friend, but foe, A forget-me-not help gone out of hand! One, that came to town crested with a crown, That has a name its own brought badly down. ______________________________________________________ Wednesday last week, now known as 13/7, added one more ominous ring to its cousin 11/7 a few years back when explosives went off in seven local trains in Mumbai. The 26/11 is still fresh in our memory. A friend of millions, Tiffin box has in this last case turned into an instrument of terror. Terror has snatched many innocent things from life— even children of tender age that become live carriers. Alas, a plane Tiffin box has now lost her innocence for ever. Would it ever walk tall? ______________________________________________________ Happenings | 07.07.11 |