Day 1
Mornings, I believe are the most confusing time of the day. My mom says I should be happy and grateful for yet another beautiful day, but then the alarm clock springs into action way too early for me to be happy about it. But today, I am feeling unusually sleepy..and grumpy..well that’s what my cab mate told me today, when I snapped at her for putting the FM too loud. Well, what could I have done, morning time is sleeping time. Period.
Anyway, let’s start with the day. Oh, what is this! Someone has left their cookie on my desk. Hmm, splurge on calories right in the morning. Must be Tina’s. She is probably the only one in the office, who is way too cool with the sugar entering her system. I guess, when you have to take care of two realllly naughty kids at home and a demanding boss in office, sugar is what helps!
“Hey Tina, Good morning” I smilingly wish my colleague. “I see, you are being too generous this morning. Sharing your daily dose of morning cookie with me”, I winked at her and passed on that cookie to her. But, she said “Not mine yaar. The two demons at my place dropped away my last piece of indulgence this morning, while fighting for it”. I couldn’t stop smiling apologetically on that puppy face of hers. “But, I don’t mind gorging on this one. Looks delicious actually”, she excitedly took the cookie and happily indulged in it. Well, I don’t know who this belonged to, because I couldn’t see anyone else in the bay, but whosoever it would be, I am sure would not mind their cookie satiating this cute lady.
Day 2
Aah, a cookie again! But whose is it? “Hey Tina, did you like yesterday’s cookie so much that you bought a box of it?”, I asked Tina, thinking, in fact almost knowing that this would be hers. “Umm, no, not mine again. I was thinking though. It was quite tasty so to think”, she said. Not hers again! But, then if not hers, whose is it? There is this one guy from some other team, maybe it’s his. “Umm, hi”, I went to him. “Hi”, he responded. “I was wondering, if this is your cookie that you have mistakenly left on my desk”, I asked him. “Uh No, not mine”, he said.
Not his as well. Anyway, forget it, I have far too much work today to dwell on the cookie mystery.
Day 3
Today is going to be a tough day. That big meeting with the client, the deadlines for the proposal and that horrendous discussion with the boss. Damn, how do I manage it all in just 1 small day! Incidentally, today is the longest day of the year! As if, it will stretch long enough to aid me finish the humongous to do tasks for the day. Arghhh… I should stop being silly and start with the work now.
What the fu..! Another cookie today! Is this a new tradition that my company has started to offer cookies to employees in the morning? But why just me? I doubt they consider me that good an employee to take extra care of me.
“Shruti. Hi, Good morning! Can you please come over to my desk? Got to discuss some changes in that proposal”. My manager is calling me from across the bay. Cookie..manager..mails..Oh forget it, manager first.
After few hours
Damn, it’s already beyond lunch and I have wasted the entire time brainstorming that stupid proposal with the manger. I am so hungry right now. Cookie! Should I have that? What if it has something in it? Naah, Tina also had it the other day and she is perfectly fine. But who is keeping it here? Oh no, really hungry! The strange part of hunger is that, it can make you do anything, like for example work uselessly to earn money for food or eat this temptingly mysterious cookie, with perfect knowledge that it shouldn’t be eaten. Aaand..I eat it. Heavenly!
Day 4
What do you think? Will it be there again? Oh yes, there it is. Again. Today, I have to find out, who is putting it here.
I call the pantry boy and ask him,“Bhaiya, ye biscuit yaha pe aapne rakha?”
“Nahi madam, mai to abhi aaya”, he says.
“Bhaiya, zara dekhiyega, roz subah yaha pe ye biscuit parha hota hai. Kahi koi bhoot vagera to nahi hai na is building me!”, I asked him mockingly.
He laughs and says, “Kya baat kar rahi hai aap madam. Biscuit hi to hai. Kha lijiye”, and he walks away.
I keep staring , perplexed at that cookie, when Tina interrupts. “Shruti, I think this is some estranged or wannabe lover of yours, who is leaving it for you every day”, she winks and mocks at me.
“Haha.. not possible. With this job, the only people I meet is you, who would rather eat the cookie than leave it for me, my boss, who if possible would not give me time to even sniff the cookie and the bald and not at all beautiful clients”, I said with a straight face and then we both laughed away.
I threw the cookie in the bin that day.
Day 5
Cookie again. Now, I am irritated. And I throw it away, again.
Day 6
Should I raise it with the HR now? Anyway, I throw it away again.
Day 7
Not again!
“Hey, don’t keep throwing it every day”, Tina interrupted.
“Why? You want to have it? I suggest not. God knows, who this idiot is and what this cookie is!” I said furiously. I mean this is not even funny anymore.
“No, not me, but give it to the pantry people na. They would be happy to eat it”, she said.
“Naah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. This person seems to be some lunatic and God knows if that cookie is poisonous or something”, I said angrily and tossed it into the bin.
Day 8
Today, I am going to unravel the mystery and that’s why I have planned to arrive an hour earlier than usual at the office. The entire office is empty right now. I will sneak around somewhere and wait for that person putting it there. Oh wait, I can see something on my desk already. Damn, the cookie is already there! When does he keep it?
But enough is enough. While leaving for the day, I leave a note for the cookie man
“Listen cookie man or woman, whoever you are. This isn’t funny anymore. Stop it right away or I will have to call the police.
P.S: I don’t like cookies and why on Earth are you sending them to me? There is a slum nearby. Show your generosity there. It might earn you some good wishes as well”
Hopefully this should stop now.
Day 9
AGAIN!!! What the hell! And no reply to my note! This person really has some guts.
I go up to the security guard and ask him “Bhaiya, aap kitne baje aate hai subah?”
“Meri shift 6 bae start hoti hai. Kyu? Kya hua madam?”, he asks confused.
“Aapne subah sab employees se pehle kisi bahar vale ko aate dekha kya?”, I asked him
“Nahi madam. Cleaning staff hota hai aur canteen vale bas. Bahar valo ka to sabka is register me record hota hai”, he opened the register to show me.
I checked it for the past one week, but no one arrived to the office before 9 am. So was it someone from within the office?
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This ritual continued for days together. To begin with, I used to toss it away. Then, I accept, I ate it and it was really delicious. It had a nostalgic taste to it, just that I couldn’t figure out the source of nostalgia. My younger sister, who is a pathologist tested the cookie if it was drugged or not, but it was absolutely clean. I then started sharing with the pantry people and on some days Tina and I would share the cookie over coffee and laugh at the mystery cookie giver. I don’t know who is this person, why is (s)he leaving cookies on my desk, but I have to give the credit of these cookies being delightfully tasty. Initially, I felt confused, then irritated, then angry and then eventually I guess I have accepted this as part of my daily routine. I am no longer surprised to see that cookie on my desk every morning. It’s in fact a ritual to find it there now.
But, I often wonder why me of all people in this office is receiving this cookie?
I don’t know what this is. It’s already been a month now.
Day 28
Today is the day to be surprised. No cookie on the desk! I don’t know if I am relieved or a little disappointed.
“Madam, ye aapke liye letter aaya hai”, the lady mopping the floors handed it to me.
“Kisne diya?”
But without responding, she turned and went away. I called after her, but she didn’t turn.
The note reads:
I know you want to no me. Now I am ready to tell.
I happy you finally eat those cukies. They were spechly for you.
I crumpled the note in my hand. Specially for you! Should I be scared? And how does this person know that I ate those. Is he stalking me? And what kind of English is this?
But I still don’t know who he is or why the cookies.
Day 29
This time the note is on my desk.
The answer to all your qostions wait for you this Sunday, 2pm, at CP, in the road near Keventer.
Don’t be afraid
Finally, some closure to this mystery in the offering. I can’t wait for this Sunday now. I just want to get over with this.
Sunday
You can’t imagine how I have spent the past 3 days. I have never been so confused in my life. I have been wondering if I should take someone along with me. I asked my younger sister, but she is too busy with her research work to fancy this mystery.
Tina, who has always been a bad ass adventure lover, has in fact declined to go saying “What if that guy is some murderer or some psychopath! I suggest you also avoid going there. He isn’t sending anymore cookies na, that’s what you wanted. So, let it be.”
I know it can be dangerous, but I still want to unravel this for once and for all. It’s been haggling me far more than required now.
So, I take a cab and reach the specified destination. But there is no one here.
How am I going to find this person! There are so many shops here. It’s Sunday. There are so many people. What does he expect! Should I go and ask everyone if you are the cookie man? I should have known this was a bad idea.
Let me think, if this person is sending me cookies every day and has called me to such a crowded place, (s)he should be connected to some bakery, maybe working their or maybe owning one? But there isn’t any around.
“Excuse me, yaha paas me koi bakery hai kya?”, I ask a magazine vendor sitting near Keventer’s.
“Yaha nahi didi. Is gali me thorha aage jake dekhiye”, he tells me.
That note said in the lane near Keventer’s. I should go check there. Ahh it’s so hot in Delhi, or maybe the palpitation of my heart has is racing out through my sweat pores.
There it is..Shaaama bakery. But this is closed! What the…
Maybe there is another one. I should ask someone, “Bhaiya yaha koi aur bakery hai kya?”
“Nahi. Doosri outer circle pe hai. Yaha to yehi hai”, the hawker said and left.
That’s it. I have had it. I should leave now. Just as I walk towards the cab standing on the opposite side of the road, I see a young boy with the same cookie in his hand. I run towards him and ask him nervously yet impatiently, “Ye biscuit kidhar se aaya tumhare paas?” The young boy gets startled and suddenly as if some realization dawns on him, he says “Didi aap hi ho na..office vali?” Office vali !!
Yes yes this is it. But this young boy? Was he the one sending me cookies? He seems pretty harmless and poor. But why?
Drowned in own thoughts, I didn’t hear the boy. “Ye biscuit aapke liye”, he gave it to me and beamed.
“Ye tum mere liye kyu laye ho?”, I asked him not comprehending how is it possible for this young a child to send it to my office everyday.
“Ye main nahi laya didi. Vo bhaiya ne bhijawaya aapke liye. Aapko lane ko bheja mereko”, he told me rubbing his hand over his nose to wipe the snot. He said and he started walking, simply expecting me to follow.
Not him? Is this some sort of a game? They don’t have underworld in Delhi na? Dammit, what have I gotten myself into!
Where is he taking me? This place is a dump. I never knew behind the royal mannequins of Connaught Place, there is this less fortunate area. There are cramped houses..well not houses actually, these are small huts made of cow dung. The road is less of mortar more of pot holes, open pot holes and the stench is..well horribly unbearable. I don’t feel good. I think I should turn and leave.
“Didi, bas vo samne vali kholi me jana hai”, the little boy points to a hut, which seems better than the rest of the lot.
And we are there. Am I making a mistake? I open my handbag and check for the pepper spray and small knife I had made sure to keep in my bag for safety, and hold on to it as that boy knocks on the door of that house.
The door flings open and the familiar whiff of that cookie welcomes me. I can see a crippled man, putting batter in a cast tray. As soon as he sees me, he looks up, smiles excitedly at me and puts the tray aside. He must be 35, has a weak body, but dressed clean, though poor. The place is nondescript, except for a cot with a torn sheet on it, a jacket hanging from the rusted hook on the back wall and some boxes placed around the man.
“You look like your mother”, he says looking at me, with what it appears moistened eyes. But I don’t even know this man. I can’t recollect seeing him before, neither here in Delhi nor in Bhatinda, where my parents live.
He probably senses my confusion. “I sorry for trouble you. I didn’t want to, but I forgot you scared from beginning”. Who is this man? “You think who I am?”, Duh! Of course, I didn’t come all the way here to go on an adventure trail on a non-working day.
“You no remember me”, he beamed all his thirty two teeth at me. No, I can’t and I don’t.
“I, Sham. I work your house when I was 10 with my amma”, he told me. But, I still can’t recall much.
“I break your doll by mishtake and you cry. Then my amma angry, but you say sorry to me, because amma beat me”, he tries to explain to me in his broken English and now I remember. He used to accompany his mother, who would wash utensils at out Bhatinda home when I was a kid.
“Aah..acha acha..now I remember.. Sham bhaiya”, I said recalling the name I used to call him with. But suddenly, I am filled with a confusion and rage. Is this the way to call someone to meet you? And why does he want to meet me?
I ask agitated, “Have you been sending me those cook..i mean biscuits all this time?”
“Yes baby, it was me”, he used to call me baby back then. But, I would rather prefer he doesn’t call me that now. It surely has a different, not so cute ring attached to it now.
“But why? Is this any way to call someone to meet you?”, I angrily ask him. “And what happened to your leg?”, I suddenly realize or re-realize his cripple.
“I will explain you. First sit, have water. It’s hot and you tired”, he offered me a seat which was a makeshift on trunk kept in a corner of the room and asked that young boy who had accompanied me to fetch a bottle of bisleri for me.
“I send cookie to you, because I can no come without legs”, he said with extra emphasis on cookie.
“You remember amma dead TB?”, he said with a somber voice and I nodded.
I remember those days. My mother was really disturbed, not because she had to look for another maid, but because she had lost someone, whom she genuinely cared for. She had been working at our place for five years and was almost like that family member, who by fate couldn’t be a part of the family. When Sham’s mother passed away, he was very young, about thirteen years old and with nowhere to go to. My parents had got him enrolled in the local community school and would give him money for his fees and books, but soon after his mother’s death, he started loitering around and started indulging in illegal activities and bunking school. When our driver told my parents about it, they scolded him and sent him to work at my maternal grandparents’ place in Bhopal and enrolled him in a school there. After that, what happened to him, I had no idea, or maybe I never asked my parents about Sham bhaiya. Maybe it was out of sight, out of mind for me. Since he wasn’t around to play catch-catch with me or push my bicycle, when I rode it, he faded from my memories, until I meet him again today.
“And then I go to Bhopal. There your naana naani love me lot. Scold me lot also”, he grinned sheepishly.
“I study in school. Learn English, Math there, help naani in kitchen and learn making cookies from her”, he said.
Oh yeah, now I know, why that nostalgic taste in those cookies. When I was younger, my naani used to bake them for us every vacation and then when we grew up and got busier in our nonchalant lives, she used to send boxes for us. But since the past many years, she has stopped baking them, because of her weak eyes and it’s been such a long time since I last visited them in Bhopal. Oh, I suddenly miss them both.
“Then I come to dilli for job in big factory, clothes factory. I very excited, earn money. But, God likes other things. I had accident and I loose legs. Without legs, no work in factory, because I can’t run the machine. So I sit at home. Then I remember what naana told me God help who help them. And then I send this chotu (the young boy), to get me atta, sugar and a tray and I bake cookies at home. Every day, chotu takes cookies to big shops, stands on traffic light to sell, but the first cookie baked ever day to you”, he says.
“Why first cookie to me?”, I must say I am very happy to hear his story, but can’t fathom why the first cookie to me.
“Naana always says Always be thankful to who gave life to you. To me, God, amma”, he points towards the picture of his mother kept beside him, “your mummy, papa, naana and naani”, he says with his emotions slanting to whisper.
“Only you in dilli. All other away. So I send cookie to you”, he said wiping away the tears that finally rolled down his cheeks.
“But aap samne kyu nahi aaye fir? Mujhe mil ke dete to acha hota na. Aise to mai roz dar jati ki kaun rakh raha hai”, I ask him, for I really wanted to know. “Aur that note I left for you? Uske jawaab ki jagah, agle din fir cookie hi thi”, I add.
“Note? I no get any note.”, he replies immediately. I had kept it there but. Maybe it must have got misplaced by the cleaning staff.
“I want to meet you when I become something. Everyday chotu go to sell cookie but no one buy. Then one day, big shop send order to me, then I send note to you to meet. I come on my own to meet, but with no legs, problem, so I ask you to come. Sorry”, he says apologetically.
So that is what those boxes around him were for. I feel so happy for him right now, that I feel the anger washing away, though I still feel that he could have chosen a better manner to express his gratitude.
He continued speaking, “Now, I send 10 boxes every day to this shop. You tell naani, her cookies are best”.
Wow! How this mystery has unfolded. Actually, I am glad I came here. I called up my parents and grandparents and told them about Sham bhaiya’s story. He talks to them and is so happy and so are my folks. This time, he has prepared and kept aside an entire box of cookies for me and not just one.
But there is one question still unresolved. As I am about to leave, I ask him “How did you send those cookies to me? I checked everywhere, but couldn’t find out”.
He laughs and says, “Lady who gave letter to you. She is my mu boli sishter. She works there and keep one on your table every early morning”
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On my way back home, I just can’t stop smiling. I was so cynical, imagining him to be a psychopath, creep, murderer and what not. And what he turned out to be. Actually, the real mystery I solved today was not about the cookie, but about the faith, or rather the lack of faith we people have in humanity. The answer that Sham bhaiya had said I would find here is: Not everyone is bad. There is still enough humanity left to restore trust!