The Great Art Class Disaster had left me proudly wearing my “battle colours.” Blue splashes on my front, yellow streaks on my straps and tiny white tissue fuzz stuck here and there.
Kabir carried me everywhere that week, showing me off like a medal.
“Zippy’s a survivor,” he’d tell anyone who’d listen.
I was practically famous, until Friday afternoon.
That’s when it happened…
It was the last period before the weekend. Kabir was in a hurry to join his friends for a quick game of footballbefore going home. He dropped his books into his locker, set me down just for a moment and ran off with a “Back in a sec, Zippy!”
Spoiler: He was not back in a sec.
The school bell rang, the corridor emptied and before I knew it, the janitor came sweeping down the hallway. He spotted me leaning sadly against the wall, muttered something about “careless children,” and scooped me up.
Next thing I knew, I was tossed into the Lost and Found cupboard!! A dark, slightly musty place that smelled of dust, old leather and faintly of forgotten lunches.
Meeting the Locals
At first, I panicked.
Then, from the shadows, a voice spoke.
“Well, well… fresh meat!”
I turned my metaphorical head and saw a broken umbrella, its metal ribs sticking out like the skeleton of a bat.
“I’m Brolly,” it croaked. “Been here two years.”
Next to him sat a single muddy sports shoe.
“They call me Lefty,” it said in a deep, dramatic tone. “My partner went missing in the Great Football Match of ’21. Never came back.”
In the far corner was a dusty cricket bat, leaning against the wall with an air of grumpy dignity.
“I’m Sir Willow,” he announced. “Once hit a six so high, they’re still looking for the ball.”
Over the next few days, I heard their stories, tales of monsoon days, sports triumphs and mysterious disappearances. They were an odd bunch, but they welcomed me.
The Week of Waiting
Day 1: I was annoyed. How could Kabir just forget me? Sure, he had football, but I was his battle-coloured hero!
Day 2: Annoyance turned into worry. What if Kabir replaced me? What if some other bag was now swinging proudly on his shoulder?
Day 3: Brolly and I played “Guess the Object” in the dark. Sir Willow kept score, badly. Lefty told another dramatic story about “The Day of the Big Puddle.”
Day 4: I realised my paint stains were fading into the dust. My once-proud “battle colours” now looked like I’d rolled in blueberry mustard under a bed.
Day 5: I started to miss Kabir terribly, not just the way he carried me, but the way he talked to me when he was alone. How he’d stuff me with snacks or balance me on his lap like a friend.
Day 6: We had a cupboard concert. Sir Willow tapped a beat, Lefty thumped the wall, Brolly sang off-key. I joined in with the sound of my zipper clinking. It wasn’t bad.
Day 7: The door creaked open.
Rescue
“Kabir?” I called in my head.
Sure enough, it was him! His hair was messy, his eyes wide.
“There you are, Zippy!” he said, scooping me up in a hug. “I’ve been looking everywhere!”
He brushed the dust off me, then frowned at my fading paint streaks.
“You look… different.”
I was about to feel hurt when he grinned.
“Still the best-looking bag in the world.”
As he carried me out, I glanced back at my cupboard friends.
“Good luck, Zippy,” Sir Willow called.
“Remember us!” Lefty added.
“Come back in the monsoon!” Brolly croaked.
Back to the World
Walking home, Kabir explained everything.
His parents had banned football for a week until he found me. He’d searched every classroom, the library and even the playground shed before finally checking the Lost and Found.
I wanted to be angry.
I wanted to say, You left me in the dark for a week!
But instead, I just enjoyed being back where I belonged, swinging at his side, the world bright again.
That night, Kabir put me on the chair next to his bed instead of tossing me on the floor.
“You’re my lucky bag, Zippy,” he whispered before falling asleep.
And for once, I didn’t mind the dust still clinging to my straps.
It was proof of my great adventure.