On lunchboxes

I remember getting off a plane from Europe after a month of travels and landing in my hometown a few weeks ago. When I stepped out, I gave a massive hug to my mum and dad and then we started driving away. Eventually, we found a pitstop to have a quick bite.

Whenever I return from travelling across time zones, I carry new meanings from the cultures and places I've experienced. In this case, my mind was still calibrated to Europe's version of a quick bite. The only thing I could picture was a cold veggie sandwich, the kind I'd grabbed during hours of train travel.

Cut to, I come back to the car. And suddenly the world starts changing in front of me and so many things start to show up like a whirlwind. My mum first starts with a thali (with pre-existing spaces for food), and then, wet tissue, and then dry tissue, followed it up with slices of pan-fried paneer (cottage cheese) and then followed that up with bhindi (ladyfinger/okra) and then some paranthas.

The said thali, with paranthas, bhindi and slices of home made paneer ♥️

My mind was blown. My senses were doing a dance, with familiar flavours in the air and when I took my first bite, I noticed a few tears came rolling down my eyes.

I was loving what I 'hated' growing up: packing food for travels.

I have told these stories often in different ways. I grew up in a middle-class household, which means the only travel I ever knew existed was in trains or buses, in rural India, as we went back to our grandparents' home during summer vacations or winter break. The only food we could ever take on these long 15 to 18 hour journeys was what my mum made. Always some paranthas because they don't spoil easily in the heat or winters of Rajasthan. Sometimes a dish made only of onions or another made only of finely chopped potatoes, sometimes bhindi, and always some Indian pickle. Always a combination of these. And we would carry our own water cooler, made with a mix of ice and filtered water at home, so it remains cool for the entire journey for four of us. And you know what? I hated all of this back then. I thought because we were so poor, we couldn't afford to eat out or drink Pepsi or buy food on the way. The same then continued when I came to Bangalore for the first time, on a free-ish flight ticket. My dad used some existing miles and a bunch of coupons to get me a free ticket, but the journey with food still continued. Always packed food came along with us. It's interesting how limited my lens for looking at the world was then. I never even realised how much effort it took mum to make the food, never realised how much more she was doing than us and then some. Everything came down to my lens of looking at the world through 'we can't afford that'.

What was aspirational for me back then, for about ten years until quite recently, was being able to eat out, at will, at these places at the airport and train stations. But I think I am starting to come around now. Now, I have travelled a lot, experienced different cultures from around the world, from North Africa to America, to Europe and Middle East to East Asia, and I think I am starting to come back home now.

What made me really jealous on a flight I took some months ago is when I saw this person unpack his lunchbox on a flight, that someone must have made for them with so much love.

I wonder if they also went through all of these thoughts that I did.

And then last year I was travelling with a friend. We ended up staying at the same hotel. We had to catch a train from Brno to Prague, and he went ahead and asked the hotel if they might be able to pack some fruit and sandwiches for us so we don't go hungry on the way. And instantly, something changed in my mind. Something just clicked for me. I told him, this is what I have seen my parents do, and he said 'me too!'.

Perhaps it took me sitting on countless flights around the world to finally realise how meaningful it was for my mum to pack all of us food. Not only so that we would not go hungry, but also so we could save money when we could. And ultimately it always comes down to that, isn't it? If you grow up like I did, I assumed we did things because we didn't have money, not because it was actually the smart thing to do. To control the quality of what you eat and also the quantity, so that a family is not going to eat rubbish, or something so spicy that it will make their stomachs go for a toss or worse, create mouth ulcers.

Now, when I travel (which I do often), I look forward to carrying some fruit with me, and maybe getting something packed from home for the long journey ahead. I was meeting a friend in London a few weeks ago, where I bought some fruit and nuts, she brought some fruit, and then we got a coffee to-go and I felt so proud. I don't feel ashamed anymore for making the smart choice.

Coming back to this day. When I took that bite, all of this and more went across my mind. The emotions were so strong!

Perhaps now I am becoming the person who likes taking lunch with him, and carrying a bottle that I can refill. After eating in all the fancy and non-fancy places around the world, I also don't find a lot of joy in eating out anymore, not as much as I used to. Sure, a bowl of ramen and some sushi sometimes, I love my idlis (#idlisislove), and what would I do to get some nice dosa, or appam with stew, uff. I have now learnt how to make ramen. What started off as an attempt to impress someone quickly ended up becoming a skill (story for another day!). Perhaps my relationship with food is starting to change and maybe what has in fact come around is the wisdom from my mother.

Maybe someday, you will also find me unpacking a lunchbox, made with so much love. When you do, tap me on my shoulder, so I can share my lunch with you. No matter how small my dabba (lunchbox), there is always enough for both of us.

Lots of love,

Rishi