The Mystery of a Missing Tin

By - A Tin

It is a matter of wonder that milk for a baby, is obtained from a tin while rest of humans, get it from a living cow. Greater wonder still, the babies, grow by inches on taking this tinned milk while rest of the young humans, barely, add a few centimeters per annum. This fact was enough to fuel our friend s’ already simmering imagination. There was a missing link here somewhere, unexplained and unexplored. Being of scientific temperament, this fact was marked for investigation and he went about it in a systematic manner.

So, while his cousin, a baby, about eight months old, slept in his cot and his mother took a much needed power nap, on the bed next to him, our friend Purja tip- toed to the kitchen. The subject of his mission, the baby milk powder tin was kept on one of the upper shelves. Baby’s mother had taken a vital, though, completely inadequate precaution. She had reasoned that the ‘out of immediate reach’ status of the tin would be a deterrent for the invading parties. Well, she was wrong.

Forming a rather precarious elevation of sorts by piling multiple tins and steel boxes, one on top of another, he managed to reach The Tin. The lid was so tightly shut that he bent a spoon, dislodging it. “ Look! What he did. I could not function, that is to say, for spooning after that” stated a bent spoon rather frivolously. It was bent double, rather obviously. In fact, our friend used the same spoon to spoon some milk powder in his mouth. He was not finicky about his cutlery, and couldn’t risk procuring another due to his delicately balanced state on top of steel and tin tower. The milk powder looked ordinary enough but he was floored when he tasted it. Rest is history. Milk powder’s fate was sealed at that precise moment. He finished nearly half of it before he remembered others. Being of generous disposition and also a great believer in ‘safety in numbers’, he collected rest of his zing- bang lot. The poor milk powder, so far an elite entity, became a commoner that day. It was, relished by all. The poor tin was robbed of its contents. On seeing the empty tin, there was a distinct feeling of déjà vu amongst the revelers. They knew that, they had sinned, but the question now was, how to prolong the detection of the sin. Finally, on our original finder’s suggestion, the empty tin along with the bent spoon was hidden behind the pots and pans of the utensil cabinet. The tin and the steel box tower dismantled and the various parts hidden. Then they all vanished, keeping a ‘out of sight’ profile, waiting for soon to come, hour of reckoning.

“The baby got up wailing. It was his feed time. But I was untraceable. The household staff was confused. And the total absence of children who were always the first to spill around the place of commotion, from the crime scene, was intriguing. This absence itself was the vital clue, their waterloo. The guilty were found hiding behind the bush in the back garden and the youngest hence most venerable was short listed, for questioning. In spite of all the tutoring she had received from our friend, Goltu let the ‘story out of her milk powder coated mouth’ at the first sight of a raised eyebrow. The baby was given cow’s milk that he refused to accept by spitting and howling. He resisted bottle and its alien contents by throwing tantrums. He had to be spoon- fed. His poor harassed mother vented her anger, by grounding the milk powder raiding party. They went without dinner. As for the baby, he had cow’s milk from then on” concluded the tin, amidst resounding applause.

Of course, our friend sat in his usual corner, quite satisfied, expecting to grow at least five to ten inches in next couple of weeks because of all the milk powder he had managed to gobble. He expected to be a super man soon. Life was good and growing, as far as he was concerned. A born optimist, he charted his ‘things to do’ list in anticipation of ‘supermandom’.

A compulsive superman fan, the digital camera was busy, clicking pictures of the bent spoon with other members. Everyone wanted a photo taken, as a souvenir of this event. The spoon was in seventh heaven. At last it was getting the recognition it deserved.

“Wait! Once I tell you about the garden’s misfortune, you all will realize how crazy the whole group was. They had a uniquely talented leader in our Purja,” the old much used hoe said, attracting attention to itself.