The curious case of Tally " The toaster"

Hii!!!

I am Tally , the toaster , Make: Philips , Model : HD2566/79 ,950 W. I was manufactured in a factory located in Salt Lake , Calcutta ( Now Kolkata) and shipped to the city of mutineers Meerut for sales. I was one of the prime features of a newly inaugurated Electronics Showroom and jump started my further journey being bought by a middle class banker's family. I believe , he must have done cost benefit analysis of purchasing me. In their traditional Indian kitchen, I outscored any other appliance in looks, features and also the attention I got from the family. I was blessed with power of electricity. I looked down upon the pressure cooker , the regular sandwich maker , for I felt myself superior , the privileged class. The 2 kids in the family, turning to English Breakfast of Toast butter/jam owing to their Convent eduction, loved me the most and they even flaunted my existence in their kitchen. But there were times when other appliances got a chance to mock at me , rather such incidences were frequent , the regular power cuts in the city.

As time passed they made peace with me , we realized that each of us had its own importance. There were entries in the family , the new 4- burner gas stove. Old Sandy “ the sandwich maker” retired. Life moved on. The kids grew older and left to new bastions for higher studies. The mid aged couple seldom used me. I was left alone, ignored , I was at receiving end in my uncontested territory. I started hating my life.

Then, a ray of hope came my way. The son visiting home decided to take me with him to Noida ( Suburb of National capital New Delhi). I was excited for it was going to be a thrilling experience- new people , new place . For the 1^st time in my life cycle I was travelling by a car , something imagined in dreams only. Since there was no one else accompanying , I was put on the back seat ( instead of the dark hell at back of car) and I could see the world through the windows. I was brought in a new kitchen , I was welcomed and to my self admiration , years later , still I was king , the ruler in the kitchen for there being no other electronic appliance than me. Months passed, everything was perfect until one day a mouse got trapped inside me. With next tap on the power switch, a major turn around had taken place. The mouse breathed its last in me . It was an accident, I was no guilty but I was accused , called a murderer and accordingly punished.

Today, I am lying on a big heap of garbage , a place where all the city rejects are thrown. Two curious kids down there with big plastic sacks on their back and sticks in their hands are eying me. I will be caught hold of and submitted to the local junk shop owner ( better known as “ Kabadiwallah”) and he will be one deciding my fate. Looking back at my life , at the concept phase in Omaha, Nebraska, forming days in Salt lake , in Meerut , in Noida , I had worst of nightmares but this. I am fully functional yet discarded for a crime I never committed. There is no appellate for me. No one to listen , so I resorted to writing down my plea hoping someone someday might come across it and do me justice.