Lunch Esteem

What was your lunch-esteem in school? Mine was high on the inside and low on the outside. And in elementary school, it was confused.

I went to an elementary school which was also my sister’s high school. She was 5 years older and the school was an hour long bus ride away from our housing colony. Boy, was I glad she was on the same bus! You see, I could just carry my basket of school books (yes, it wasn’t a backpack then), put it down near my legs and giggle away with friends, playing mindless games. It was my sister’s job to carry the oddly shaped lunch tiffin-dabba for the two of us, along with her school basket.

I was old enough to learn and young enough to enjoy. The school had classrooms with large open windows, huge playgrounds, many huge trees on campus. The touch of music, dance, drama and sports made school so much more delightful to be at.

That is, until the bell rang for lunch. All my friends scattered off to their ‘chosen’ group under a tree to open their lunch-boxes. I had to hop, skip and jump my way to the ‘chosen’ tree across the high school building. That was the price I paid for being tiffin-dabba-less.

My sister and her friends all sat around in a circle and spread out their towels for the lunch paraphernalia. And I, outside the circle – my sister’s appendage. Our tiffin carrier as some called it, was a tall 4 tiered stainless steel structure, neatly assembled with a skeleton, latch and handle on the outside. Each tier acted as the lid for the next and the top tier prided it’s own. As my sister unraveled the tiffin-carrier, she wiped off the food from under each tier. Tier 1 was vegetables to be shared between us, tier 2 and 3 some form of saambhar (lentils with vegetable) rice, one for each of us, and tier 3 was yogurt rice to be shared. All food was cold by lunch time.

It was always the same menu, no surprises. The predictability and the familiarity were soothing. Yet, lunch was not my favorite part of the day. I was embarrassed to be the topic of the brief ‘she’s so cute’ conversation and promptly forgotten thereafter. No lunch-esteem. None whatsoever, both for me and her I’m sure.

When my sister graduated from school, I graduated on, To a tiffin-box. These boxes were rectangular with two compartments. Food packed hot in the morning was still cold by lunch time, the same predictability in the menu. We sat on the floor with friends in the school yard, often sharing each other’s predictable lunches for a taste of variety. My lunch-esteem had risen to a tolerable level.

Fast forward 30+ years. My children did not go to the same school together. In the US, the children, the boxes, the lunches, were all very different. Mine didn’t seem too fond of the cold sandwiches that other children ate at lunch. Or they were bored of my only vegetarian option – peanut butter and jelly.

I discovered the lunch thermos – at least warm food. I was proud of my variety – soups, pasta, dhal rice, fried rice. I even sneaked in a little note of ‘luv and kisses’ sometimes, as a surprise. When the thermos came home, I interrogated. Did the food taste good? Who did you sit with at lunch? You didn’t eat all of it? How hungry are you? Did you get a snack?

Years later during one of our conversations, my daughter said – you know, I wondered why you were so invested in our lunch outcomes. Sometimes I was conscious about my food. At others I sat by myself. And there was food available in school too. My son, he was too consumed in his other activities. Lunch was a distraction. His life didn’t seem to depend on food.

I am no culinary expert. But there was variety in the lunch I packed and it was hot. I had even ensured the two children did not ever have to be in the same school! The diversity in the student body and lunches, the availability of school lunch, and the more compelling post-lunch activities must have cooked up a bland lunch-esteem.

To each his own – Lunch.

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