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growingmechanical · 3 years ago

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Carton Forming Machine

https://www.growingmechanical.com/products/carton-forming-machine/

Carton Forming Machine

Box Making Machine is an ideal equipment to produce paper boxes such as hamburger boxes, chips boxes, fried chicken boxes, kids meal boxes, takeaway boxes, triangle pizza boxes, etc. It has a firm structure, high quality, low noise and high efficiency.

Growing Box Making Machine for Sale

Automatic Carton Thermoforming Machine

It has the fastest working speed of 40 times per minute, which is the domestic leading speed level. It has the monitor computer system. If there is a fault, the machine will stop and alarming.

Double Workshop Carton Forming Machine

It adopts water-based adhesive gluing device, which can achieve high efficiency and high accuracy. Water-based adhesive is a water-soluble adhesive used for food grade glue. Most of the high quality sealed bearings, (to prevent dust, liquid into the bearing life) long life, good stability.

Carton Erecting Machines

Carton Erecting Machines are ideal for the production of cartons, such as hamburgers, fries boxes, fried chicken boxes, children's lunch boxes, takeaway boxes, triangular pizza boxes, etc.

High Speed Vertical Double Station Carton Forming Machine

It is suitable for 3D carton molding, especially for carton in fast food industry, such as hamburger carton, doggie carton, etc. Compared with the ordinary stereo carton machine, the speed is faster, the feeding time is longer, the collection product is more, the labor cost is saved.

Features of Carton Box Making Machine

1. Full-machine servo motor, quieter and lower power consumption.

2. All machines use stainless steel screws.

3. All machine bearings imported from Japan.

4. The box collection frame can be made unchanged or made universal.

Function of Carton Making Machine

For the production of single-cell disposable paper boxes, paper boxes, food packaging boxes and FBJ-C full auto paper box machine through the automatic feed paper, heating (comes with hot air generating device), hot press moulding (adhesive box four corners), automatic points collected, microcomputer control of continuous processes.

The fastest working speed is 40 times per minute. Besides the Domestic leading speed level, It has a monitored computer system. If there is a fault, the machine will stop and alarm.

On the same machine, only need to change the mold to be able to manufacture the different specification meal box, the chip box, the stereo box, the hamburger box and so on the product.

The machine adopts a water-based adhesive glueing device, which can achieve high efficiency and high accuracy. Water-based adhesive is a water-soluble adhesive used for food-grade glue.

#carton #former

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plastic-mold · 3 years ago

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PLA injection molding from China

Biodegradable PLA Injection Molding-China Topworks

Interested in Chinese PLA(Polylactic Acid) injection molding manufacturers and designers that can increase your business profits? We provide full-service, custom PLA plastic injection molding at Topworks Plastic Mold, China's biodegradable PLA injection molding company. As your partner we look forward to working with you. At costs that are internationally competitive and that meet the highest quality standards, we are able to design, manufacture, and distribute PLA injection molded products. As a result, we offer an array of tooling, manufacturing, and shipment services to turn your biodegradable PLA injection molding concept into reality. Whether you are working with PLA injection molding copy parts already in progress or are still developing your PLA molded product, our process will streamline your product lifecycle at every stage. Topworks PLA Injection Molding Benefits – Long-lasting and safe for use – Variety of treatments available – Quick delivery – PLA plastic injection molding made to order – A one-stop service from quotation to delivery, including design, manufacturing, and sample.

What is PLA injection molding

PLA(Polylactic Acid) is a naturally occurring plastic made of corn starch that is high in hygroscopicity and easy to absorb water from the air. PLA is an ideal material for use in thermoplastic injection molding, extrusion, films, 3D printing, and almost any process associated with the manufacture of thermoplastic components due to its ability to naturally breakdown and regenerate. Different industries can use PLA plastics to make PLA molded parts for many different applications. Injection molding of PLA offers several benefits – Degradable by microorganisms, minimal environmental impact after use – Excellent mechanical and physico-chemical properties – Easily processed, useful and suitable for blow molding, melt processing, and a variety of other processes – Compatible and degradable – Glamorous and transparent – Superior tensile and ductile strength – Permeance to air and oxygen

Application of PLA injection molding

PLA molding service includes such products as - food packaging, - fast food lunch boxes, - nonwoven fabrics, - industrial fabrics, - healthcare fabrics, - dishcloths, - sanitary products, - outdoor UV resistant fabrics, - tent cloths, - floor mats, etc.

In the field of medical, China PLA mouldings are also widely used for devices such as disposable infusion equipment, detachable surgical sutures, and slow-release packaging agents for drugs. PLA is synthesized from starches, sugars, and other biomass materials when they are chemically converted and polymerized with lactic acid. PLA derived from bio-resources can be thermoplastically processed into highly transparent products to replace conventional disposable products and mitigate the shortage of petroleum. Plastics made from PLA are the first commodity polymers made from renewable resources annually. By the United State Food and Drug Administration ,it is a generally recognized as safe (GRAS) material that is safe for all food packaging applications. In addition to being nontoxic, nonirritating, high strength, and easy to process and mold, PLA is also biocompatible. PLA melts at 160-180 degrees and can withstand temperatures up to 150 degrees. Injection molding, foaming, and blow molding can all be done with PLA, but its toughness is not sufficient. PLA has the best mechanical properties and thermostability of any polymer. Read the full article

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dreamerrambler · 7 years ago

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Sarkaari Canteen

“Sarkaari Canteen”, painted in red paint on a ply board partition painted in shabby white greets me as I reach the government canteen right next to the English wine shop. The wine shop is about two kms from the main road, across a bridge over a dirty drain which probably is a seasonal river of sort. The road, generously colonized by potholes, dirt, dust, drains, dogs, domestic garbage runs through a densely populated area full of tiny shops selling things of everyday needs, hawkers selling ‘chinese food’ (some of them with boards like Tiwari Chinese, Ankur momo, Yadav restaurant in hindi dangling from them), people standing, talking, shopping, idling, spitting, peeing and manoeuvring- on bikes, activas, precarious e-rikshas and on foot. Men and boys in pants and shirts, in T-shirts and jeans, kurtas and skull caps; women and girls in sari, suits, jeans and kurtas, burkas and hijabs and children with clothes and without, all around me. I trudged through that dusty path, asking for the way to the liquor shop, occasionally, from men, exclusively; selecting the victims of my enquiry after considerable visual examination of their religious beliefs, economic status and character. Finally I reached the liquor shop situated on right side of the road, large water filled potholes right infront of it and a plethora of men buzzing around it busily like bees around a rotting carcass. The government canteen

I brought a beer which was chilled, with beads of condensation on it, from the wine shop which had iron bars on it giving the impression of an old prison cell and stepped into the government canteen with the unopened bottle of beer in my hand. At the porch of the canteen is a small counter that fries chicken and fish right infront of you. A counter inside, on the right sells chana, salad, water bottles, disposable glasses and other such necessities. There is a large table with 6 plastic chairs kept infront of this counter. Behind this table is the plyboard partition (separating the inside of the canteen from the outside) shabbily painted in white and ‘Sarkaari Canteen’ written in hindi with bright red paint on it. Behind the partition are haphazard rows of tables with benches and plastic chairs around them. A side doorway on the right, with no door exits in the compound behind the wine shop housing the kitchen and scullery facilities.

The owner is a large, punjabi boy in jeans and T-shirt with beard and spiked hair who probably eats a lot of chicken, drinks daily and lifts weights. He asks for money upfront before taking any initiative on his part for the order placed. Assisting him behind the counter and running errands is a little, fair skinned balding man with thin arms in a capri and t-shirt that hugs his pot belly and accentuates it to make it his prime feature. Then there is the old sardarji, with very little hair on his face and head, a carelessly wrapped turban on his head, the shining moon of his bald scalp showing through the various layers of if a dirty, old cloth. I ordered a plate of chana and the punjabi boy asked me for money upfront without taking the least initiative or directing the little man towards the tray of chana masala. I paid, collected my tiny plate of chana- no bigger than a saucer, the unopened bottle of beer in other hand and walked in behind the partition for the outside was already occupied by men, hurriedly gulping down their beers, their helmets in the other hand. I occupied the table right behind the main counter, near the door on the right. It was an old wooden table with four plastic chairs around it and an empty water jug in the middle. I sat on the chair in the corner, an old withering wooden cabinet with no shutter doors behind me, filled with empty bottles of whiskey and beer carelessly dumped into its shelves. I placed the chana on the table and opened the bottle of beer with my teeth and took a large gulp and placed the bottle on the table beside the tiny plate of chana masala.

There were a lot of men in the canteen (bar?); all of them were in their respective groups except me who was sitting and drinking alone in a corner. There was the group to my left-across the pathway that was illuminated by the evening light from the door in the partition-drinking and smoking in their factory uniforms and large safety shoes. Another large loud group of young men infront of me, across the door on the right, already a little drunk and probably celebrating something- an engagement, a child birth; certainly too extravagant if it was a party for promotion or pay hike. A few smaller groups, scattered, in the back, of heavy drinkers who had planted themselves strategically such that they could not be disturbed in their talks and deep introspections- of matters relating to life, and that of the heart. The room with high ceilings was thick with smoke and illuminated only by the evening light sneaking in through the two doors.

After witnessing people come and go, some munching and others selectively picking out of their plates and gulping down half of my beer and half of my tiny saucer of chana, I picked out a cigarette from the packet in my pocket and ventured to search for a match box- all from the chair I was slouching on. Just then I saw an old woman in a saree walk out of the door on the right to the men sitting across the door in the partition and give them a matchbox. She waited for one of them to light his cigarette and collected the matchbox from him and gazed to her right-to the back of the room and then turned around towards the door she came out of. She saw me with the cigarette on my lips, stopped infront of my table and waited for me to ask her for the matchbox. It was a little weird that she offer him- the man on my right-voluntarily, but waited on me to ask her for it. I, in my little drunk state and a little bewilderment asked, “Aunty, give me the matchbox” in hindi. She dropped the match box on the table and still waited on me, looking intently at me, to light my cigarette and return it back to her. Weird again. She collected the matchbox after I had used it and turned around and sat with her back to me, on the bench, on the other side of the table- which I had not noticed was there! She sat there, fiddling with the match box in her hand, observing the crowd in the room.

She wore a black colour blouse with a deep back cut of rectangular shape and a cheap printed saree with the pallu tucked into her waist; her hair black and tied into a low bun behind her head almost covering her neck. She was thin, with appreciable curves, wheatish complexion and tied her saree so low that it showed her naval and another two inches and hid her feet even if she walked. When she stood, it was with a feminine elegance of sort, but with both her palms resting on her hips, almost like teenage boys; caressing, rubbing, as if estimating their curvature or giving them a sensual massage. She walked with elegance too- a straight back thrusting her breasts forward, measured steps, a little flirty sway to her hips, arms swaying from side to side and a forward glance from gleaming eyes and a large toothless smile on her old, wrinkled, tired, dark face. She was probably in her late fifties but her face had aged more than her body. It was as if she had witnessed more life than she had encumbered. Or maybe she had tried really hard to keep her body young but could not stop her age from scribbling its stories on her face. It was difficult to ignore her.

She was unbelievably comfortable in her surroundings (even happy?) for she kept walking around, swaying her hips, picking empty bottles and plates from the tables and disposing them, somewhere. She was more comfortable there than I was. She knew people too. Some of them asked her to run errands for them- “Aunty bring me a salad plate”; and she would carry the note to the counter holding it with the tips of her fingers and swinging it like a green leaf in breeze, returning with the plate and serving with a smile and small talk or a joke at which she would cackle with the men thundering with laughter around her.

I thought, “Maybe she had been one of those women who had served men and made them happy for a living.” In a fraction of a second I realised that I just defined an Indian house wife. “Maybe she had spent numerous days and nights in places like this. Maybe there was a time when she drank. Maybe she drinks, still. Maybe she’s drunk right now (and hence the big smile and the swaying hips) - that is why she chooses to work here!” There are no free lunches; there certainly is nothing like free liquor- another quick realisation of my moronic standpoint and I dropped the conclusion I had come to- on my own-with the imagination I had considered as rational data. But something kept pushing me- the notions as to how a woman should behave derived from the Indian middle class “values” I believe I was brought up with; the socially constructed mould gauging and judging the behaviours, actions and choices of women against the standard charts for a decent, “respectable” woman; my prejudices disguised as values - in the back of my mind, to brand her a whore. And that I did. I came to the conclusion that she had, in her earlier years, worked as a prostitute.

A ex-whore.

On one hand I derived a strange kick in drinking in a place like this accompanied by supposedly shady characters and on the other hand I felt guilty of judging an old woman’s character exclusively on the basis of my prejudices. But I also felt proud of myself for I did not feel any dislike or condescension or hatred towards her. I simply accepted that reality (my opinion) of hers and maybe a little appreciation for her effort and zeal rose from my heart. I felt better than before. I needed some encouragement and I got it from acknowledgement and appreciation of goodness and strength. “I am as prone to falter as any other human being, but, even in my piddly understanding, if I am able to see and celebrate one of the most rooted virtues in the world, I think my prejudices can be, and should be forgiven”, I thought. I was happy. I drained the last drops of my beer into my mouth, mounted another cigarette on the left side of my lips, like I always do- unknowingly; and stood up to leave and took one last look at the place before I turned around. The old woman, looked me in the eyes, from across the side door- fading evening light casting a distinct luminous trapezoid block in the room dividing the space between us-expecting me to ask her for the light. I looked at her, smiled and walked out.

#my writing

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