Sometimes, one meeting is enough to know you dislike someone. In my new school it began that way with Arjun.
Arjun, the leader of Std VII C, decided things, including who would be let into the class lunch group.
“What’s in your lunchbox?” he asked.
“ Roti-sabji ,” I said.
I knew instantly that I had failed in some way. I understood the pitying glances of the other boys only when they began announcing their own lunches. The things they had in their ordinary looking lunchboxes! Methi chakras, gobi gols , double deckers and tiranga rice!
I was determined to match their food and begged Amma for something special. “ Paneer-rotis !” I announced proudly the next day. But Arjun looked disinterested and I knew I had failed again. “Give me something nice for lunch tomorrow!” I begged Amma every day.
I got fancier and fancier things for lunch, but Arjun continued to look bored while the others turned away. I wanted them peeking into my lunchbox, I wanted to plunge my hand into theirs and taste the unfamiliar flavours of their lunch. But Arjun would not let that happen.
And soon, I stopped caring. After all, the boys were friends, we laughed, chatted and shared. So what if we didn’t share lunch?
And so, I said, “Anything is fine, Amma.”
Nothing much
That afternoon I saw that Amma had taken me at my word and given me tamarind rice. I love tamarind rice but when people around you are going to eat red velvet rice or achar bahar , you definitely want something more interesting.
Actually, my tamarind rice looked interesting, brown like chocolate rice, with peanuts that could almost be walnuts.
“I’ve brought chocolate rice,” I announced. There was instant interest and Arjun asked, “Can I taste?”
“Uh…” I said.
“You can have my chakra chews,” he offered.
Arjun was already handing me his lunch box while he grabbed mine.
Oh, no, I thought, as he ate my rice. To distract myself, I ate a chakra chews. Why, I thought, it was only a roti rolled around sabji . And I had been worrying about my boring lunch. I decided furiously that I didn’t care what Arjun thought of my lunch.
“This chocolate rice is amazing!” he said. Instantly, I was surrounded, boys pushing to get a taste, eager to give me bites of dosa sandwich, white and red, Chinese slippers.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Arjun asked after a satisfying lunch. “Chocolate rice, red velvet rice, grass rice?” They did. In fact, they tasted nicer with their fancy names.
Sometimes, one taste is enough to know you love something. It was like that with the fancy naming of everyday foods. I fell completely in love with it and nothing was the same again.
Dal -rice, vegetable pulao and idli-chutney disappeared, leaving sunshine rice, rainbow rice, white and green in their places.
And there was no hating Arjun or anyone else. There were only friends with lunch boxes full of lovely food. That was an idea I loved.
