Lunch Break

By all means, it was like any other normal lunch break at the office café. Before I could slip into one of the chairs around the dining table, most of them had already started preparing to savour another day of gourmand’s delight. I hate to admit but lunches for me are like ghastly reminder that I am still languishing in the dog house. In no time, everyone would have a big spread of plates surrounded by bowls of all sizes and purposes, slowly getting filled up by variety of mouth watering preparations made by their better halves. It’s no secret that tiffin box gives a fair idea of where is the volatile indices of romance in your matrimonial life heading. By that token, it seems all of them were making killings and reaping rich dividends. Pauper me! I can’t even enjoy little happiness from their sufferings at the hands of their so-called better halves. However for me, lunch also had much wider ramifications then just eating and it was more about showing greater skills of buying time in nibbling those two chappatis washed in yellow dal and pretending to listen “all ears” to some of the great discourses going around the table. If lady luck favors, I would not be out of my stock before these people turn into their main course. I looked at Kirti , sitting just opposite to me, animatedly showing everyone the dish she has brought from her house. It seems, she still has hope alive with her culinary skills and done some new experiment again with the recipe she has learnt from some scrappy cooking book. I also helped myself to serve a big chunk of that dish that she has kept on the table for everyone to taste. However; there is no such thing as free lunch in this world and this little crumb had also come with a big price tag. We have to listen to the great story of the preparation of that recipe right from her serendipitous discovery of that cook book from a scrap store to her own innovations in chopping, grinding, marinating, frying and cooling of that final outcome. There was still raging discussion going on to whether that dish was a cake, pastry , pie or just a bread with lot of cheese , butter and sugar. Who cares a damn about the nomenclature , By that time I had taken another round of helping for myself of whatever remained on her plate and gave Kirti a stealing big five. After all, she was my hope of surviving at dinner table a little longer as long as she continues with her struggle with these recipes. For all intent and purposes, we both were fighting our losing battle on the dinner table.


Someone has now switched on the TV and all eyes were glued to the episode of Emotional Atyachar coming on the large flat screen. The bimbo was screaming and haggling her beau , who was caught again with the PYT. I looked around at everyone sitting at the dining table, most of them were jaundice faced and completely breathless watching that guy getting roughed up by his sweet heart. I was clueless what was frightening them: Was it the images that was disturbing them or that sneaking feeling in their mind that they could also be the next one. Someone has truly said, we all come to our senses only when our stomachs are completely filled. With that sumptuous lunch devoured by them, the bitter truth was churning inside them and someone rightly flipped to a news channel giving everyone breather from that sense of déjà vu.
For me , lunch was almost over and I was looking for the sweets to complete the ritual. I glanced through the entire dinner table for the last time. Now, everyone was rushing through their plates. Seema has some gulab jamuns so I stretched myself from my end to her end to pick gulab jamuns from her cup. “Look at you, You look so miserable juggling from one plate to another ”; those words hit me like ear splattering bombs and I knew that was it, I got frozen on that frame with the gulab juman in my hand. Literally, it was a miss between cup and lip. “ See! I am not saying this because I have to share my lunch with you, I am genuinely concerned with your pathetic situation. Could we do something for you ”. In a jiffy, I could see the faces changing their color from ridicule to atmost empathy. Was I hallucinating now: there were looking like those wild gladiators, who just had a great lunch and now all raring to kill without second thoughts. Silence was deafening me at that moment and I did not know how to get out of the situation and more so what to do with that gulab jamun , still stuck precariously in my shaking hands. I gulped that Gulab Jamun at once. I really did not have a choice with that.


“I know, my time is running out but so is yours. The lunch is over for today so let us have me as barbecue some other time.” , I showed everyone the big clock hanging above our head and ran away from the café before I could actually become a turkey for their after-lunch delight. Do not bit off more than you can chew: I learnt it the hard way today. Hope you will not repeat the same mistake.