Every night before sleeping, Kabir’s mother said, “Check under your bed. If anything is lying there, pick it up.”
And every night, Kabir said, “There is nothing under my bed.”
But that was not completely true.
Under Kabir’s bed, there was one blue crayon, a pencil cap, half an eraser, one marble, a yellow sock missing for three days, and three biscuit crumbs that looked very proud of themselves.
Kabir did not know all this. He only knew that under the bed was dark, dusty, and full of “not now.”
One night, Kabir was almost asleep when he heard a soft sound.
“Chuk-chuk… chuk-chuk…”
Kabir opened one eye. Then the other. The sound was coming from under the bed.
He slowly bent down and looked. At first, he saw only darkness. Then he saw a tiny yellow light. Then a little engine came out.
It was smaller than his school shoe. It had a shiny black chimney, round silver wheels, and a red front that looked like a smiling nose. Behind it were three tiny coaches.
On the first coach sat the blue crayon. On the second coach sat the marble. On the third coach sat the missing yellow sock, waving like a flag.
Kabir’s mouth opened wide.
The tiny engine stopped near his slipper.
“Ticket, please,” it said.
Kabir blinked. “Ticket?”
“Yes,” said the engine. “No one travels on the Under-Bed Express without a ticket.”
“But I am not travelling,” Kabir whispered.
The engine looked at him carefully. “Then why are you staring like a passenger?”
The yellow sock waved again. “Come, come! We are going to Lost-and-Found Junction.”
Kabir climbed down from the bed. “But I am too big.”
“Only from outside,” said the engine. “Inside, every child is the right size for a tiny train.”
The engine gave one small whistle.
“Pheeeee!”
Suddenly, Kabir became smaller and smaller until he was just the size of a pencil sharpener.
The coach door opened. Kabir stepped in.
Inside, the seats were made of matchboxes. The windows were shaped like buttons. A biscuit crumb rolled past him and sat opposite him.
“First time?” asked the crumb.
Kabir nodded.
“Hold tight,” said the crumb. “The Dust Hills are very sneezy.”
The tiny train started.
“Chuk-chuk, chuk-chuk, chuk-chuk!”
It went past the left slipper, around the school bag, and through a tunnel made from Kabir’s blanket.
Soon they reached the Dust Hills. They were soft, grey, and very tickly.
“Aaaachoo!” sneezed the blue crayon.
“Aaaachoo!” sneezed Kabir.
The biscuit crumb sneezed too, but so softly that only another biscuit crumb could hear it.
The engine laughed. “Welcome to the cleanest place that nobody cleans.”
A little ahead, half an eraser was sitting near a pile of paper bits.
“Are you coming?” asked the yellow sock.
The eraser sighed. “I cannot. I am only half.”
The blue crayon leaned out of the window. “Half is enough for a short journey.”
The eraser smiled and climbed into the coach.
Finally, the train reached Lost-and-Found Junction.
In the middle of the station stood an old safety pin wearing round glasses.
“Name?” asked the safety pin.
“Kabir,” said Kabir.
The safety pin opened a long paper roll. It rolled down, down, down, and hit a sleepy dust bunny on the head.
“Sorry,” said the safety pin.
The dust bunny yawned and went back to sleep.
The safety pin read, “Kabir. Owner of one yellow sock, one blue crayon, one marble, one pencil cap, half an eraser, and three biscuit crumbs.”
Kabir looked down. “I didn’t know all this was here.”
The safety pin raised one eyebrow. “Things under beds are usually things people did not know were there.”
The yellow sock jumped up. “Can I go back to the drawer now?”
The blue crayon said, “I want my box.”
The pencil cap said, “I want my pencil.”
The marble rolled forward proudly. “I do not miss anyone, but I would like to be found dramatically.”
Kabir laughed.
The engine blew its whistle. “Return journey!”
Everyone climbed back into the train. Kabir helped the eraser climb in. He kept the biscuit crumbs in a tiny paper cup so they would not roll away.
When the train reached Kabir’s bed, the engine stopped.
“End of the line,” it said.
Kabir stepped out. Slowly, he grew bigger and bigger until he was his normal size again.
The tiny train began to reverse under the bed.
“Will I see you again?” asked Kabir.
The engine smiled with its red nose. “Only if something gets lost.”
Then it disappeared into the darkness.
“Chuk-chuk… chuk-chuk… chuk…”
Kabir switched on the light and looked under the bed.
There was the yellow sock. There was the blue crayon. There was the marble. There was the pencil cap. There was half an eraser.
And yes, there were three biscuit crumbs sitting together like a tiny family.
Kabir picked them up.
The yellow sock went into the laundry basket. The blue crayon went into the crayon box. The marble went into the toy jar. The pencil cap went onto the pencil. The eraser went into the pouch.
The biscuit crumbs went into the dustbin, after giving one last crumbly salute.
The next morning, Kabir’s mother looked under the bed.
It was clean.
She looked at Kabir. “How did you finally find everything?”
Kabir looked at the floor. For a second, he thought he heard a very soft sound.
“Chuk-chuk…”
Kabir smiled.
“I took a train,” he said.
His mother laughed.
But under the bed, behind the left slipper, a tiny red engine winked.
