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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: General Interest
- Published: 04/07/2012
Offer
Born 1984, M, from Chandigarh, IndiaOffer
“Can I have a chapatti,” I asked the mess server concealing my displeasure on again being served with sambhar and rice.
The server, a small black man in his late forties, shook his head in negation.
“But you promised me that you will serve chapatti to me twice a week,” I pleaded.
“We cannot make chapatti for a single person,” the server shot back.
Then he muttered to his fellow server, “North Indian!” Both of them laughed derisively as he thumped the steel plate on the granite shelf.
I ignored the spiteful remark, collected the plate and started to search for a vacant seat in the crowded college mess.
I found one but could not gather courage to occupy that as six of my fellow students were already sitting there. As in the past whenever I had tried to occupy a vacant seat with my fellow students they had fumbled in their chairs and then muttered to each other in a language alien to me which allowed them to burst into laughter.
I made my way towards the college ground and sat beneath a tree’s shade. Then as I mixed the sambhar and rice with my fingers, my throat produced a lump moistening my eyes. Then with a heavy heart, I ate the unsavoury food alone in the sultry heat of three in the afternoon.
I felt very lonely being the only North Indian in this prestigious dental college in Madras whose name I cannot reveal for reasons obvious to all of us. Though I was never discriminated upon, at the same time I was also not allowed to mingle. Everyone tried his or her best to deny my presence.
After spending six months in this manner, I started to have cramps in my stomach. The reason behind these cramps had nothing to do with the hygienic level of the food as the food served in the mess was of very high quality but I was never able to fill my stomach to the level of satiety.
Then one day, fed up, I decided to approach the dean as I hoped he would be able to find a solution to my food problem. I knocked at the door of the dean’s office.
“Come in,” came the rapt reply from inside.
I opened the door a little with some hesitation and asked for permission to come in.
“Yes you may.”
The dean was a dark man I think in his fifties, looking through his spectacles he asked me, “Well! Aman how can I help you?”
I was amused as well as astonished at the thought of the dean knowing my name.
“You know my name sir,” I asked nervously.
“How can I not know the name of the only North Indian studying in my college? I have also heard a lot about you from our college mess incharge,” he answered with a chuckle.
Now that rang a bell in my mind. I knew that the mess incharge would not have said anything good to raise my reputation. On the contrary, he might have tried his best to malign it.
On seeing me worried, the dean asked me to sit down on a chair placed opposite to his.
“Do not worry, I never believe in what others say about anyone, I only believe in checking for facts myself,” said the dean as I pulled out the chair to sit.
That remark abated some level of anxiety in me.
“So Aman, you are here in my office for…? I hope all is well.”
“Everything is good sir. Actually, I am finding it difficult to fend myself on the rice and sambhar diet alone. I would be grateful to you if you could ask the canteen contractor to prepare chapattis also.”
And I think this request of mine came as a jolt for the dean as his facial expressions suggested. He was expecting something big from me not this petty issue of chapatti.
The dean somehow disguised his expression behind a silent smile though his uneasiness was apparent.
“I can’t ask the canteen contractor to prepare chapattis for a single student,” replied the dean.
Then after a second thought which was a deep thought he said, “I can do something for you, meet me in the evening at my residence. I think you know where I live.”
“I know sir, you reside on the college campus. I will come in the evening,” and saying this I hurriedly came out of the dean’s office.
I took a long deep breath as I was in desperate need of it. I started to walk towards my hostel room and was worried for what was going to come in the evening.
I looked at my watch it showed 3’o clock. And then I realised that in a hurry to get out of his office I forgot to ask the dean about the time to come to his home.
Now this added more anxiety to my already troubled state of mind. Then after thinking for a long time, I decided to go at five in the evening.
I changed into a blue jean matching it with a sky blue shirt and marched towards the dean’s house at quarter to five. I saw many of my fellow students on the way who as usual, on seeing me, muttered to each other and laughed.
On reaching dean’s big house, I rang the bell and a dark teenaged boy opened the door who looked at me in a bemused manner as if he saw an alien.
“Who is it Subhu?” asked a feminine voice as I heard some fast paced steps approaching the door.
Then a fair woman in her mid fifties emerged from inside the house who was so excited to see me that she rushed towards me and somehow managed to restrict herself from embracing me.
“Please come in beta, please come in,” said this woman cheerfully as she caught me by my hand and dragged me towards her living room.
The dean was already sitting in the living room buried in the newspaper as if he was oblivious of happenings in his own home.
“Oh! So you have arrived,” said the dean with a grin as he moved his eyes towards the fair woman introducing us to each other, “Meet her, she is my wife Vidya, and this is Aman, Vidya, the North Indian boy I told you about. Now leave his hand and allow him to sit down and relax.”
“Oh ! Yes yes,” said Vidya as she realised that she was still holding my hand and she asked me sit on the couch.
“Are you a Punjabi,” asked Vidya gleefully as I comforted myself on the couch.
“Yes I am.”
Then Vidya rushed into the kitchen and I looked at the dean who had again buried his face into the paper. I think he wanted to remain as aloof as possible from a student. I looked around the living room which was tastefully decorated with a lot of paintings.
Vidya came with two allo paranthas smeared with ghee within minutes.
“Eat it beta,” asked Vidya as she patted me on my back with motherly affection.
I took the plate from her hands and started to gorge on the paranthas as I was feeling famished as I always remained on half-empty stomach.
Vidya’s eyes were looking at me with full attention as if she was relishing the view of me eating the paranthas like a starved person.
Then as I finished the paranthas.
Vidya said to me, “Beta from now on you will be eating your dinner with us. Please do not tell other students as it can affect the reputation of dean sahib. I would be very happy to have a fellow Punjabi in my home every day, but I have one condition, you will have to conversate with me daily in Punjabi.”
“I will mam, I will,” I replied as I jumped with enthusiasm on the couch and at the same time I cleared a lump in my throat and then I burst into a loud laugh when I saw the face of the dean who was flummoxed at the offer made by his wife, but what could he do?
Do have a look at my blog : lifelongstolive.blogspot.com
Offer(Atul Sharma)
Offer
“Can I have a chapatti,” I asked the mess server concealing my displeasure on again being served with sambhar and rice.
The server, a small black man in his late forties, shook his head in negation.
“But you promised me that you will serve chapatti to me twice a week,” I pleaded.
“We cannot make chapatti for a single person,” the server shot back.
Then he muttered to his fellow server, “North Indian!” Both of them laughed derisively as he thumped the steel plate on the granite shelf.
I ignored the spiteful remark, collected the plate and started to search for a vacant seat in the crowded college mess.
I found one but could not gather courage to occupy that as six of my fellow students were already sitting there. As in the past whenever I had tried to occupy a vacant seat with my fellow students they had fumbled in their chairs and then muttered to each other in a language alien to me which allowed them to burst into laughter.
I made my way towards the college ground and sat beneath a tree’s shade. Then as I mixed the sambhar and rice with my fingers, my throat produced a lump moistening my eyes. Then with a heavy heart, I ate the unsavoury food alone in the sultry heat of three in the afternoon.
I felt very lonely being the only North Indian in this prestigious dental college in Madras whose name I cannot reveal for reasons obvious to all of us. Though I was never discriminated upon, at the same time I was also not allowed to mingle. Everyone tried his or her best to deny my presence.
After spending six months in this manner, I started to have cramps in my stomach. The reason behind these cramps had nothing to do with the hygienic level of the food as the food served in the mess was of very high quality but I was never able to fill my stomach to the level of satiety.
Then one day, fed up, I decided to approach the dean as I hoped he would be able to find a solution to my food problem. I knocked at the door of the dean’s office.
“Come in,” came the rapt reply from inside.
I opened the door a little with some hesitation and asked for permission to come in.
“Yes you may.”
The dean was a dark man I think in his fifties, looking through his spectacles he asked me, “Well! Aman how can I help you?”
I was amused as well as astonished at the thought of the dean knowing my name.
“You know my name sir,” I asked nervously.
“How can I not know the name of the only North Indian studying in my college? I have also heard a lot about you from our college mess incharge,” he answered with a chuckle.
Now that rang a bell in my mind. I knew that the mess incharge would not have said anything good to raise my reputation. On the contrary, he might have tried his best to malign it.
On seeing me worried, the dean asked me to sit down on a chair placed opposite to his.
“Do not worry, I never believe in what others say about anyone, I only believe in checking for facts myself,” said the dean as I pulled out the chair to sit.
That remark abated some level of anxiety in me.
“So Aman, you are here in my office for…? I hope all is well.”
“Everything is good sir. Actually, I am finding it difficult to fend myself on the rice and sambhar diet alone. I would be grateful to you if you could ask the canteen contractor to prepare chapattis also.”
And I think this request of mine came as a jolt for the dean as his facial expressions suggested. He was expecting something big from me not this petty issue of chapatti.
The dean somehow disguised his expression behind a silent smile though his uneasiness was apparent.
“I can’t ask the canteen contractor to prepare chapattis for a single student,” replied the dean.
Then after a second thought which was a deep thought he said, “I can do something for you, meet me in the evening at my residence. I think you know where I live.”
“I know sir, you reside on the college campus. I will come in the evening,” and saying this I hurriedly came out of the dean’s office.
I took a long deep breath as I was in desperate need of it. I started to walk towards my hostel room and was worried for what was going to come in the evening.
I looked at my watch it showed 3’o clock. And then I realised that in a hurry to get out of his office I forgot to ask the dean about the time to come to his home.
Now this added more anxiety to my already troubled state of mind. Then after thinking for a long time, I decided to go at five in the evening.
I changed into a blue jean matching it with a sky blue shirt and marched towards the dean’s house at quarter to five. I saw many of my fellow students on the way who as usual, on seeing me, muttered to each other and laughed.
On reaching dean’s big house, I rang the bell and a dark teenaged boy opened the door who looked at me in a bemused manner as if he saw an alien.
“Who is it Subhu?” asked a feminine voice as I heard some fast paced steps approaching the door.
Then a fair woman in her mid fifties emerged from inside the house who was so excited to see me that she rushed towards me and somehow managed to restrict herself from embracing me.
“Please come in beta, please come in,” said this woman cheerfully as she caught me by my hand and dragged me towards her living room.
The dean was already sitting in the living room buried in the newspaper as if he was oblivious of happenings in his own home.
“Oh! So you have arrived,” said the dean with a grin as he moved his eyes towards the fair woman introducing us to each other, “Meet her, she is my wife Vidya, and this is Aman, Vidya, the North Indian boy I told you about. Now leave his hand and allow him to sit down and relax.”
“Oh ! Yes yes,” said Vidya as she realised that she was still holding my hand and she asked me sit on the couch.
“Are you a Punjabi,” asked Vidya gleefully as I comforted myself on the couch.
“Yes I am.”
Then Vidya rushed into the kitchen and I looked at the dean who had again buried his face into the paper. I think he wanted to remain as aloof as possible from a student. I looked around the living room which was tastefully decorated with a lot of paintings.
Vidya came with two allo paranthas smeared with ghee within minutes.
“Eat it beta,” asked Vidya as she patted me on my back with motherly affection.
I took the plate from her hands and started to gorge on the paranthas as I was feeling famished as I always remained on half-empty stomach.
Vidya’s eyes were looking at me with full attention as if she was relishing the view of me eating the paranthas like a starved person.
Then as I finished the paranthas.
Vidya said to me, “Beta from now on you will be eating your dinner with us. Please do not tell other students as it can affect the reputation of dean sahib. I would be very happy to have a fellow Punjabi in my home every day, but I have one condition, you will have to conversate with me daily in Punjabi.”
“I will mam, I will,” I replied as I jumped with enthusiasm on the couch and at the same time I cleared a lump in my throat and then I burst into a loud laugh when I saw the face of the dean who was flummoxed at the offer made by his wife, but what could he do?
Do have a look at my blog : lifelongstolive.blogspot.com
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