வறியார்க்கொன்று ஈவதே ஈகை, மற்றெல்லாம் குறியெதிர்ப்பை நீர துடைத்து -Thiruvalluvar Mrs. Sharma starts her day early, in the quiet of the morning. She carefully cooks lunch for her son Arjun, who works far away in a busy office in the city of Mumbai. She fills each part of the metal ‘dabba’, with food made freshly with love. Around 7 a.m., she hears the sound of a bicycle bell ringing and stopping at her gate. It’s Rajesh, their dabbawala, wearing a plain white kurta, shirt paired with loose trousers, with a Gandhi Cap on the head, which helps keep him cool under the sun. Mrs. Sharma goes to her balcony and waves to him. Rajesh gives her a polite nod, taking the dabba carefully. Mrs. Sharma often wonders how the dabbawalas deliver so many lunches without mistakes. They don’t use phones or fancy tools, just a simple code with colors and symbols on each dabba. But somehow, every day, the lunch reaches right people on time at their desk. In the afternoon, she imagines her son opening the dabba and tasting the familiar food from home. It makes her happy to think that, even in his busy day, he has a bit of her cooking to comfort him. Later, Rajesh brings the empty dabba back, and Mrs. Sharma nods as she takes it from him, ready to fill it again the next day. One day, the world changed. News of a virus spreading quickly through cities came like a dark cloud over Mumbai. Soon, lockdowns were announced. Mumbai had become a city that felt strangely quiet and still, and people were told to stay at home. Mrs. Sharma missed her usual routine. Every morning, she would pack her son’s lunch with care and watch from her balcony as Rajesh came by to pick it up. But now, weeks passed without the familiar sight of Rajesh and his bicycle. She worried about him, knowing the dabbawalas made a living only from delivering lunches, and without the usual work, Rajesh and many others would be struggling. Days turned into weeks. One afternoon, she asked around in her neighbourhood and eventually found someone who knew where Rajesh lived. It was a long way from her home, in a small neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Determined to help him, she put on her mask, gathered a few supplies, packed some extra food, and set off. When she finally reached Rajesh’s area, she could see the impact of the lockdown everywhere. She knocked on the door of a small house and Rajesh’s mother answered. There, Rajesh sitting quietly, looking thinner and weaker than she remembered. Rajesh was surprised to see Mrs.Sharma and quickly tried to stand up, but she gently waved him back down. Mrs.Sharma sat beside him, placing a bag of food and supplies in front of him. “I know these times have been hard,” she said softly, “and I just wanted to check on you.” Rajesh looked down, his eyes filled with gratitude and humility. “Rajesh, you’ve taken care of us for so many years. Now it’s our turn to look after you,” she said warmly. She told him how she had missed seeing him every morning and how grateful she was for the kindness and care he had shown over the years. Over the next few weeks, Mrs. Sharma continued to visit Rajesh and his family, bringing groceries and cooking extra portions for him. Rajesh, feeling supported, slowly regained strength. It gave him hope that things might improve soon. Eventually, the lockdowns eased, and When the dabbawalas were allowed to work once more, Rajesh returned to his route. On his first day back, as he rode up to Mrs. Sharma’s home, she was already waiting with Arjun’s dabba packed and ready, her warm smile showing just how glad she was to see him again. From that day on, their bond grew stronger, and each time Rajesh collected the dabba, he knew it wasn’t just a delivery—it was a symbol of the kindness that helped him survive through the toughest days. And Mrs. Sharma knew she hadn’t just helped Rajesh; she had found a true friend in him, someone who would forever be part of her family. Hereby, Gowtham