Ramu was nervous that day. 

His mornings had been hell since the morning his dad had asked him to deliver milk at house no. 13.  He had not thought much of it, just a stop on the way to school, but it had turned out to be much more than that. This morning, as he approached the house, there was a silent prayer on his lips. With great anxiety, he rang the bell…and waited. No response. He wasn’t surprised. In fact, he would have been surprised if the ringing had got a response.

He rang the bell again. When he had done it a third time, he heard footsteps and a song being hummed. Then the doorknob turned and a face peeped from behind the door and a hand reached out for the bottle of milk. Ramu handed over the bottle of milk and waited…waited for the other hand to come out and hand him the empty bottle of milk from the previous day. But that hand never came out and the door silently closed.

This was where the problem lay. Bottles were in short supply at home, and if Ramu did not get a bottle back, he would have to face the music at home. At best, he would not have any water bottle to take to school tomorrow and that he did not mind. At worst, he would get a scolding, and perhaps a beating, for being careless and not making sure that he got the bottle. And that was something he greatly minded.

But, he was too shy to muster enough courage to ring again and ask for the bottle.

One day he had been brave enough to ask, “Can I get the bottle from yesterday?”

“Oh, it’s still full of yesterday’s milk? Do you really need it? Can’t you do without it?” the man who lived in the house had said, very nicely.

Ramu, for some strange reason, could not say that he needed that bottle badly. For after all how could he explain the urgency of wanting an empty plastic bottle. It wasn’t a special bottle or anything. Ramu could not understand his father’s infatuation with bottles either. Why could they not be like other milkmen, and take a measure and milk and just pour out the milk into a vessel.

But, be it as it may be, the fact was that Ramu was a bottle short, and he was determined to take a bottle home. If not the one, then another one like it. So, he decided to solve the problem, once and for all, by getting another bottle just like the one they used.

“Now,” he thought to himself, “where can I get a bottle like that?”

He decided to check out all the kabariwallah’s (junk yards) and see if he could meet with any luck there. After spending a considerable time, during which he even forgot that he was getting late for school, looking for one, he decided to give it up. Then his eyes alighted on a bottle just like the one they used. But there was a slight problem. It was on a counter, and it was filled with apple juice.

He nervously moved to the counter and asked, “How much for that bottle of apple juice?”

The shopkeeper looked at the child dressed in a school uniform and replied curtly, “45 Rs.”

Ramu didn’t let the shock register on his face. But the amount just named was more than his pocket money for three months. Right now he had only 5 Rs. in his pocket and needed 40 more. A thought flashed in his mind – “Why not just steal the bottle and get it over with?”

But it was a busy market place and he knew he would not get far before some one would catch him, and he knew too well what happened to thieves caught stealing in a market place. He shuddered and decided that stealing was not an option.

“What else could he do? Where could he get the money?” Ramu’s mind was busy thinking.

Then he remembered what his Dad had done when he had needed money. He had taken something from the house and pawned it at the pawnshop. That’s what he would do too. He knew where the pawnshop was and he knew what he would pawn; his schoolbooks – he hated them anyways. He had no need for them.

So in no time he was at the pawnshop and asked the man sitting there, “Can I get 40 Rs. Sir?”

“And what will you give me in return, hain?” the man at the counter replied.

“These,” Ramu said as he emptied the books on the counter. The books were new, as the school had just begun. In fact his father had pawned something at this shop to buy Ramu these very books. Now, unlike your usual pawn broker, this broker was a good man, and he was surprised at the little boy’s behaviour. He had known Ramu’s father well, and he had heard nothing but good about Ramu.

Curiosity got the better of the pawnbroker, whose name was Raghu, and he decided to lend the money to Ramu.

“Ok! Give me your books?”

Ramu was more than ready to do as he was told and soon the money was with Ramu, and the books with Raghu. As Ramu left the shop, Raghu decided to follow him as he was eager to know what Ramu was up to.

Soon, Ramu was at the juice shop, and he had bought the juice bottle. Raghu’s surprise knew no end. He had heard of boys selling their books for cigarettes, alcohol or drugs but he had never heard of someone selling his books for Apple juice. And if that was not enough, Ramu was soon pouring the juice into the drain. After all, he was only interested in the empty bottle.

With the empty bottle in his bag, Ramu soon reached home. His mother was surprised to see him home so early. His father had not left for work yet. It was not long before the books were missed, and the wrath of Ramu’s father was about to explode on Ramu’s head.

Ramu was not sure why his dad was angry. After all he had brought the empty milk bottle home, and his father should be happy about it. But before Ramu’s father tried to explain the reason for his anger with the use of his hands, Raghu stepped in. He had brought the books with him and he explained what he had witnessed.

 Since that day Ramu's father has developed a hatred for milk bottles. Some call him unreasonable, only if they knew.