没有标记的饭盒

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拉维十九岁了，这是他工作的第一周。他在孟买当送饭员。

Ravi was nineteen years old, and it was his first week. He worked in Mumbai as a lunch carrier.

每天早上，城里的妇女们做好午饭，装进铁饭盒里。拉维和其他男人去收饭盒，把它们放进木箱里。然后，他们坐火车去各个办公室。到了十二点半，每个人桌上都有了热饭。

Every morning the women of the city cooked lunch and packed it into metal boxes. Ravi and the other men collected the boxes and put them into wooden crates. Then they went to the offices by train. At half past twelve everyone had their warm food on the table.

每个盖子上都有一个标记：字母、数字和一个彩色圆点。拉维对这些标记还不太熟悉。但男人们读这些标记就像看书一样容易，每一只饭盒就这样送到了对的楼房。

On every lid there was a mark: letters, numbers and a coloured dot. Ravi did not know the marks well yet. But the men read them like a book, and so every box reached the right building.

苏雷什叔叔是这群人的头儿。他五十五岁了，二十年来从没丢过一个饭盒。“谁要是能干满一整周都不犯错，就能得到属于自己的路线，”他对拉维说。“你还有一天的时间。”

Uncle Suresh was the head of the group. He was fifty-five years old and had never lost a box in twenty years. “Whoever works a whole week without a mistake gets their own route,” he said to Ravi. “You have one day left.”