The Tin Bowl

It is interesting that I thought about a childhood friend this morning. His mom worked in my dad's small factory and he was only 4 or 5 years old then, I was 10ish and Mankit was 12. We fought all the time. We basically hated each other and never wanted to make peace. Our small dewellings was seperated into two parts, the front bit was the living room/office space and the back bit was the 3 bedrooms/factory. My parents double bed was right next to 2 or 3 machinaries.

We constantly had guests, workers roaming around our bedrooms, kitchen and hallways. To top up the chaotic situation, Mankit and I collected at least 5 or 6 stray dogs in our garage. Each dog would have to dine seperately. My poor mom fed those dogs with our leftovers in some old tin bowls. We had a new set of identical tin bowls in our kitchen. My mom once serve the hot noodle soup in one of those tin bowl but that little kid had always refused to eat from the bowl.