Akele akele?

A gal struggling with a wisdom tooth that has been playing 'Kabhi khushi kabhi gum' for the last three days is one hungry gal. I have had to cut my meals in half. No, I'm not dieting, but that's all I can manage with half a mouth. Chewing food with only one set of premolars and molars is exhausting. I can open my mouth enough to talk, but not enough to eat normal-sized bites of food. So I take longer to eat. Worse, I was one of the trainers in a 2-day editorial training programme on Thursday/Friday so I had to talk a lot.

So between half the amount of food and twice the amount of talking, I was one hungry gal.

On Thursday, after finishing my training session, I dashed to university to attend class. I was running short of time and yet starving, so I picked up a sandwich on the way. I got to class at 6:20 pm and tried to eat whatever amount I could eat in the ten minutes I had before the class would start. And as I sat there eating it and watched my classmates walk in and out of the class, I had a sense of deja vu.

Memories of my school days rushed to me when the guys in my class would flick my lunchbox and gobble up everything in it. In fact, some of them considered it their birthright to do so. They loved Mom's cooking. Due to Dad's constant transfers, Mom had picked up a lot of yummy recipes from different states in India. She'd get up really early and carefully pack my lunch, and I'd have a surprise waiting for me every day. But of course, I'd have to unwillingly share it with the guys almost every day, and sometimes even have to give up the whole thing. They didn't care even if it was half-eaten. If they saw it, it was theirs.

The most common pick-up (lunchbox) line they used was "Kya Sayesha, akele akele?" followed by a big grin. Literally translated it means, "What Sayesha, eating by yourself eh?" but what it actually meant was "Gimme that. NOW."

Of course there were other lines too.

"Aur Sayesha, aaj Aunty ne kya banaya?" ("Hey Sayesha, what did Aunty make today?")

"Sayesha, mere liye thoda sa bachana. Hindi class mein khaunga. Sir hadd se zyada bore karte hain." ("Sayesha, leave some for me. I'll eat in the Hindi class. The teacher bores the hell outta me.")

"Dhokla???!! Arre wah, aaj dhokla laayi hai??? Chal idhar la." ("Dhokla? You got dhokla today? Pass it here.")

"Arre wah! Dosa? Tera ek, mera ek, theek hai?" ("Wow! Dosa? One for you, one for me, ok?")

"Abbe dekho, Sayesha chhole bhature laayi hai! Sayesha, yeh ke Parle-G ka packet, tiffin box la idhar." ("Guys look, Sayesha's brought chhole bhature today. Here, you can have my biscuit packet, pass us the lunch box.")

"Arre! Aam ka achaar?? Ber ka achaar kahan gaya??" ("What? Mango pickle?? Where's the berry pickle?") *indignant look*

Me - "Khatam ho gaya." ("It's finished.")

"Tuney khatam kar diya???" ("You finished it??) *angry glare*

Me - "Abbe gadhe! Khatam tuney kar diya!" ("You donkey! YOU finished it!") *angry glare back*

Once in a while, I'd bother to protest.

"Oye! Tum log roz mera tiffin kha jaate ho. Kabhi khud kyun nahin laate?" ("Hey! You guys gobble up my lunch every day. Why don't you bring your own?")

"Kya?? Tiffin box aur hum?? Mard tiffin box nahin laate!" ("What? Lunchbox and us?? Real men don't bring lunchboxes!")

Me - "Achha? Aur mard ladkiyon ka tiffin box maar lete hain, haan?" ("Oh yeah? But real men have no qualms flicking a girl's lunchbox, eh?")

"Ladki? Kaun ladki? Tu toh bhai hai bhai!" ("Girl?? What girl?? You're the bhai!")

Sheesh. So I rolled my eyes and gnashed my teeth and watched them eat what was rightfully mine.

Back to the present. So as I sat there, thinking about all this, some of my classmates walked in and greeted me. The usual formal greetings.

"Hi Sayesha, how was your day?"

"Hi Sayesha, how is work going?"

"Hi Sayesha, how's the thesis going?"

As I smiled at them and supplied the polite and rehearsed answers, I sighed. Truth was - I missed the guys back in school really badly. I missed the way they asserted their rights to my homework, my pencilbox, my water bottle, my lunchbox, everything. In the last 8 years that I have lived here in Singapore, I have not really seen this kinda sense of 'haq' that I am talking about.

And in that moment, as I sat there holding my sandwich and staring into space, suddenly I felt very sad. I felt my eyes get moist. I wished that one of those schooltime dhakkans from my class would just drop by, grin at me and say the magic words.

"Kya Sayesha, akele akele?"