Month: January 2020

I hadn’t eaten Subway cookies prior to University. I do believe they have always been on the menu, but I know I never dared to try them. I didn’t actually eat out at Subway too much either. There was no Subway close to home, and I think even when it did open, I only went there because a friend of mine thought it was the only place we could hang out on our side of town. Plus, it was the only thing near our house at the time that qualified as “fast food”. With a Sub of the Day option that cost only Rs. 100 for a 6 inches Sub, I didn’t think you could really go wrong with it.

I had heard a lot about Subway generally. My aunt had told me how when she went to America and the UK for the first time, it was one of the only affordable, consistently-good, Western, vegetarian meals available. Given my recent visit to America, and looking at portion sizes over there – the number of vegetables they put in your order means that you can save up your lunch Sub and have the rest for dinner as well, making it even more economical.

So naturally, I come to University and I find out that Subway is one of the closest fast food outlets we have to campus. In my first semester though, I didn’t have a card (I was a minor then, and we weren’t fully informed of how minor debit cards worked). So for the duration of that entire semester, my mother had given me cash – and I kept accounts and track of that cash to manage through. I made one trip home that semester, and my mother generously gave me more cash, but the fact that it was all liquid money and I wasn’t sure when an emergency may arise, meant that I spent very little.

I came back in my second semester wielding a debit card, but because of an overload of work, I didn’t really go out too much that semester. In fact, my mother visited me just after my mid-semester exams that year, just before I had a moot memorial submission. We stayed next door to the Subway, and while my mum revelled in eating from all the other restaurants in the vicinity, I asked her to treat me to a Sub in the room one day.

My third semester was when I actually began going out. I visited Subway more frequently, and developed a bit of a rapport with the owner of the Subway franchise near campus (he’s still there). I eventually rounded up on my standard order of a footlong per meal (one I’ve cut down this semester to a six inch Sub), but stumbled upon the cookies because of his sales technique. He had literally baked a fresh batch when I walked in and the chocolate chunks smelled delightful wafting through the air.

I’ve fallen in love ever since. It is now physically impossible for me to eat at Subway without ordering cookies. Even one cookie (although I have been known to eat three). They are delightful. They’re quite large, so there’s value for money, there are a lot of chocolate chips in every bite, and man, they heat it in front of you so the chips/chunks melt to gooey perfection. This one time I remember I ordered everything for takeaway and consumed 3 cookies on a 10-minute autoride from the Subway back to my campus because I couldn’t control myself.

In all honesty, they are extremely unhealthy when consumed in such amounts and frequency, which is why I have had to cut back on my consumption of them. However, they are remarkably consistent. I ate Subway in Switzerland, and in the Netherlands, and in Dubai: ordering the same cookies in all three Subways. They tasted exactly the same (the Swiss ones were better because they had a “dark” chocolate chip cookie), but my oh my. Wow.

I have forged friendships based on a mutual love for the cookie. One of my close friends in third year had accompanied me on a rainy day to collect laundry from infocity (where the Subway is located), and I remember making a pact with her that we’d take a trip to the Subway every semester. Unfortunately, circumstances have meant that neither of us have lived up to the pact, although for a while we ensured we bought each other cookies from Subway whenever we visited. Circumstances now mean that that pact will require a lot of resurrection.

Thankfully though, there is no shortage of individuals on my campus who revel in Subway cookies as much as I do. Today, I was able to make one of my friends’ afternoons, by gifting them, as a surprise, some fresh maal (if you will). His joy is not something you can put into words easily. The true test was yet to come though, and upon a physical inspection of the cookie, he accessed the microwave in the hostel, heating the cookie up to gooey perfection before consuming it in front of my own eyes.

I’m not a strong proponent of having strong brand preferences, or becoming a brand salesman. It’s why I avoid buying t-shirts that have company graphics on them (like Supreme, or Levi’s). Truth be told though, it’s impossible for me not to advocate that everybody consumes a Subway cookie today.

The chocolate in the cookie is not too sweet, yet sweet enough to tingle your tastebuds into desiring the chocolate chip. The chocolate chips are heavenly. The cookie’s texture when at room temperature is crumbly perfection. When warm, you will be transported to another land.

Try one today.

The word routine always reminds me of the French-Canadian dish Poutine. I’ve read so much about it and watched so many incredible videos about its origins, that I’m really keen to experience eating vegetarian poutine one day. I love fries, so I’m fairly certain that I will enjoy the dish, but what I couldn’t relate to in all of this information is the kind of warmth the dish is said to exude and spread across your body. I’d really like that, especially on a cold day like today where my broken window is giving me particular troubles.

This past week was my first actual week back at University. It’s been good, I’ve mostly been running errands everyday after classes and trying to get stuff done so I can go back to living normally here, but it’s been particularly difficult to get back into a routine of some kind. I end up having random things to do and as much as I try to plan things around a geographical location I’m at at any given point of the day, something seems to pop up. Or I get distracted, mindlessly, on YouTube. I love that website a lot, but I am telling you, it is the worst rabbit hole in the world. I was watching interviews with the cast of The Office, and somehow found myself watching clips of how you could loop Alexa, Siri and Google Home in an infinite loop of asking each other to do tasks till their battery ran out. That is not particularly interesting, or of interest to me, nor is it entertaining. Yet here I am watching it. How we got here, I am not entirely sure. Yet here we are.

Naturally, therefore, I wanted to use my weekend to get things in order. My roommate’s gone for a trip to Gir Forest with his friends, which is pretty awesome for him, so I’ve got the entire room to myself for the weekend. I organized my stuff and ran room-wide errands on Saturday, and today, I’ve just been trying to figure out what I want to spend my time doing over the course of this semester, each day.

Somehow I’ve ended up with more things to do than hours I can find, which means a rearrangement of somethings to accommodate my new sleep schedule of 8 hours (which I have religiously followed every single day since I’ve been back). Tomorrow will actually be my first test. Although only time will tell if I’m able to adhere to any schedule of any kind at all, it’s interesting to think about how to slot in stuff into my day.

This last semester of University is beginning to become a fascinating concept to me. The last couple of months of high school, before I moved out of my house, I spent on preparing my mother for the fact that I’d be leaving soon. I took breaks from chores on occasion. A little bit of this was me being a sloth and wanting to get pampered for a couple of months longer before I had to do all my chores. It wasn’t all very bleak though, I overcompensated a fair amount by spending as much time with my mom as I could, and she did likewise, taking time off work to be at home when I was on my study holidays for two months. It was awesome. We watched loads of TV and movies together, hung out a lot, spoke about our various concerns, and genuinely, bonded to the extent that we became friends. It was that time in my life where I was certain that some of the best friends in my world were my parents – it really changed the dynamic between us. I spent a lot of time also mentally preparing for University. There was a lot of uncertainty about what my next steps were: where exactly I’d be studying, and such, and I hated that so much, I spent time reading and thinking about all the stuff University would bring.

This last semester feels a little bit like that. The uncertainty is real. I’m just a little less insecure about it because I’ve been through this entire rigmarole before so it’s a little less scary to me this time around. The world outside of this University is going to be super different – and I know I’ve been protected inside this campus and on this University space. I also know that the things I’ve seen and done here are things that I’ve thought about and have shaped everything about who I want to be when I leave here.

I really want to use this last semester to ensure I prepare myself for a life outside this campus. Where, I don’t really need to stay awake late to get things done, or there aren’t actually commitments to keep very often. Where often, the only company you will have is yourself – and you’re likely to have to make the most of it. I want to get back to pursuing things I did when I was in high school that I enjoyed: things that I claimed I had no time for at University. This is, like a friend quipped: the most unstructured time I have – and I honestly plan to make the most of it.

Unfortunately that involves some amount of structuring in itself.

I’m a sucker for cheap, high-quality items. I love a good deal, and I’m happy to wait for longer on an investment in any item if I’m going to get it for less. It’s fun knowing that I’ve saved some money – and it’s particularly enjoyable when it is something that I need and will use on a daily basis.

Such as my spectacles.

I last purchased spectacles (after years of my mother trying to convince me I needed new ones) in the summer of 2017. I was back home with my parents for a couple of weeks, interning in what was then my home city, and I decided that would be an opportune time to get things like glasses and licenses done. Lenskart had just launched in India around that time, so one evening after dinner, my mother and I devoted ourselves to the task of trying out all the various frames that lenskart had to offer on my face (because they have cool technology) and then pick 2 pairs to buy. This was also because they ran a buy one get one free offer at the time – something I was absolutely crazy about.

Those spectacles are spectacles I still wear today, 3 years later. I know that isn’t a crazy long period of time or anything, but in terms of how frequently I used to get glasses made (because I played basketball and have an oddly shaped head), it’s a fair amount of time. In fact, I didn’t visit an ophthalmologist between 2017 and 2019 end, all out of sheer laziness, and the strong sense that my power would change, necessitating a change in my spectacles in some shape or form.

I was right. Visiting the ophthalmologist now, we found out my power had definitely increased. Back on campus I started experiencing headaches, so after my dad reminded me that I needed to get spectacles done, I decided to go to the optician store.

Now, you see: I was faced with a choice. I could buy a new pair of spectacles, or I could just replace the lenses on one of my old Lenskart pairs.

Of course, I chose to replace the lenses on the Lenskart pair. I was so happy with the decision because it meant that I could wear this pair of glasses that has genuinely seen so many of the happiest and saddest times I’ve spent on this campus till I leave. I was also happy that I did not have to take any decisions on the kind of frame that suited my face. I do not have the sharpest sense of fashion or trends, so any opportunity to delay independent decision-making in that regard is something that I will always, always seize.

To give him credit where credit is due, the optician did not make this decision quick, easy, or painless for me. He brought out a whole chart, an Excel sheet almost, showing me exactly what the cost points were. I didn’t even know so many types of lenses existed for glasses. The choices scared me, more than anything else. I just want to be able to see things clearly – nothing too fancy.

Of course, I tried making the best decision I could with all the information he provided with me.

And now my lenses have a blue tint on them sometimes because of some blue-light filter.

It almost makes me feel like I’m wearing some special sunglasses. What a joy.

I’m in love with technology. I love new devices and upgrades to existing technology, and reading and watching reviews of technology. I don’t purchase technology often: it’s always after a rigorous research process – it’s always been that way. The idea is to essentially ensure that any piece of technology I invest in is something that’ll give me returns for a couple of years, or atleast stay stable for as long as possible. This is something I’ve developed over the course of time: I would rather spend my money in something that’s durable and longlasting rather than something that’ll go kaput in a few months.

My Acer Laptop is a Nitro V Aspire. It’s a gaming laptop. I purchased it before I came to University, and it was the second-ever laptop my parents bought for me, after a Toshiba I had for 5 years. We bought it because the Toshiba began to slow down, and University definitely demanded a laptop of adequate speed, one that could handle multiple processes at the same time. Naturally, I thought we’d be doing a lot of research for it, but it took lesser time than anticipated to settle on the Acer. We got a really good deal and the laptop had everything I was looking for at the time.

3 years into University, however, the laptop began to act up, and slow down. That wasn’t too much of trouble, but then it began crashing – and losing files, which I found frustrating, but my dad found frustrating too. That led to the purchase of a different laptop, and then when that began acting up, we exchanged it for what I currently use. The Acer, therefore, has been on standby as a back-up laptop that crashes frequently for quite a while.

It’s actually been in a really comfortable bag in storage for the past year and a half, inside my cupboard on campus. I’ve taken it out a couple of times to use when my old laptop acted up, but it failed me then. I even loaned it out for a bit to a junior when their laptop was acting up. It’s seen a lot, clearly. But it’s old, and rusty, and as with old things, it’s got its fair share of issues.

I’ve seen a lot. On this campus, I’m a dinosaur. I’m old, and rusty. I’ve got my fair share of issues. Given, however, that this laptop is a gaming laptop, and that I’m in my last semester – with some free time and a desire to unwind, I thought it would be fair to try extracting as much as I could out of it – entertainment-wise. So I’ve dropped it off to the hardware technician, paid for a full servicing, and I am incredibly hopeful that when it returns, I’ll be able to game atleast for about 30 minutes to 1 hour everyday.

Gaming actually became a bit of a hobby only in the last semester. When I used the Acer laptop as my daily laptop, I didn’t really use it for gaming per se. I’m keen to see what it ends up functioning like, but most of all, I’m keen to relive the nostalgia of this massive machine I used to carry with me everywhere on campus when everyone had sleek, smaller machines.

If all goes well, this is going to be an exciting semester (as if it already wasn’t).

I feel like my reading productivity has slowed down. I’m not entirely sure why it’s happened, but it has – ever since I came back to campus. The next couple of days are likely to be devoted to getting my reading productivity back up.

It’s tricky to be at odds with yourself for not reading continuously, or as vociferously as you usually do – after all, reading is a hobby for me. It isn’t stressful or anything of the sort, and it isn’t something I log-in time for. I’m usually just pleased reading how much ever I can read at any given point of time – which, given the fact that the hobby has become a sustained habit, is a fair amount. I think, however, that when the habit disappears, perhaps the only way to bring it back, and revive the hobby – even if it’s been on the slowdown just for a few days, is to push yourself to go ahead and actually do it. Read.

That’s what the weekend’s going to be about. Hopefully next week is a lot better reading-wise.

I haven’t experienced an attendance requirement till I came to University. My school obviously had attendance rules, and the board I took obviously had an attendance requirement. However, roll call was not one of those things that happened at my school. We were all regular attendees. It was very rare that someone skipped/missed a day at school, and even rarer for somebody to be absent from classes for a prolonged period of time. I think roll call was common in Grade 8, but then just evolved into our Class Teacher looking around and enquiring about our attendances. Once in a while a register would come out, and we’d end up reminding them which days we missed. I always missed one week of school for HMUN, and then missed like one or two days if I was unwell, at most. I remember missing a few days in Grade 11 and Grade 12: where our class size was small, and we’d end up missing school to study. Most of us took board exams in January, so our teachers would encourage us to stay at home when we needed to get stuff done. It was swell.

Cut to University, where there was a stringent attendance requirement and a penalty to boot in the case of non-compliance. When I heard we had the concept of roll call/attendance on campus, I was spooked. This was majorly a result of the fact that I hated being “called on” in front of a crowd I didn’t know – because in the first weeks of college everybody is just getting to know each other and nobody really knows anybody’s name properly: which means everybody is looking around when attendance is happening trying to figure out whose face associates with what name. But also because I was super scared I’d answer with the incorrect salutation. Saying “Yes, Sir” instead of “Yes, Ma’am”, or “Yes, Ma’am” where the response was supposed to be articulated as “Present, Ma’am” was something that genuinely frightened me. As such I was late to campus. I really did not want this to become one of the things I became known for.

Alas, none of that transpired. In my first semester, I attended all but 4 days of University lessons. I missed 2 of those for a debate, and 2 of those when I stayed at home after the debate. That was it. I was regular to class, with the zeal and enthusiasm of a first-year. The day that attendance was declared for the semester, I was carefree. I literally slept-in, fully aware that it was impossible for me to get called out for not having enough attendance. To my surprise, I received a phone call from a concerned friend. I had “backs” [a shortage of attendance] in every single subject. I was outraged. I legitimately ran to the exam department in pyjamas, freaking out about what came next. How could I explain this to my parents? How could I have gotten my Math so wrong?

When my turn came, I went to this massive Excel sheet, filled with everyone’s attendance details, and found out that they had conveniently forgotten the fact that I had started a month late, making my physical attendance on this campus for a month, physically impossible. That added about 45% to my attendance, marking me safe for semesters to come.

Iconically, the first-semester was my most well attended.

In second semester, I tracked my attendance on an Excel sheet. I wasn’t skipping classes too much, but I needed to keep track. Moot work caught up to me. As did my general laziness. Plus I fell really sick in second semester and had a back issue I needed to take bedrest for, for quite a while.

This continued on to my third and my fourth semesters. Unscathed by that attendance back monster.

In my fifth semester, I ended up in a position where I had to help out with exemptions and figuring out people’s attendance situation as best I could. Which led to more trips to the exam department. This happened in my sixth semester too. By this point, I had switched over to tracking attendance on an application on my phone – which allowed me to mark all the exemptions I claimed from committees. The saving grace for me was always those exemptions. Invariably I skipped class for committee work or other internship related work. Or sometimes to sleep. This, despite the fact that I could see the classroom from my bed. If I didn’t wake up on time for the first hour of class, chances are that I didn’t go to class that day at all. It was crazy. Each time though, the fact that most of my bunks were on the back of some genuine committee work saved me. I used to be pretty scared on attendance declaration day though. My dad used to be a little worried too – we exchanged text messages each time the e-mail came about declarations, and once I remember him calling me to find out if I was in the clear, because I was unresponsive on text for quite the while.

Last semester I was a little worried about my attendance.

This semester, I am not. Not as of yet.

I’m tracking my attendance on an application again. On my phone. It’s up to date, but it’s only actually been 3 weeks of class. It’s only been 1 week for me. However, I must confess. I’m not entirely sure about which subject (the full form of the paper) which professor is taking – especially when it comes to my clinicals. As a result, for the first time in my life, I’m tracking my attendance by the Professor’s name.

[I know. I need to correct that. One day I will.]

In January 2016, when I first decided that one of the things I wanted to seriously devote time to was blogging, I remember sitting on the third floor of the library surrounded by my moot books on the eve of Pongal. I was without much company, as some of friends had gone out for the evening, but I was extremely warm and cozy on the third floor. That night, there was aloo parantha for dinner, which prompted one of the earliest posts I wrote about a food item. I was using my mother’s phone as a substitute for some time – an entire semester if I recall correctly, because my own phone failed me. One of the things I remember most vividly about that evening is messaging a friend about how we need to get our hands on some pongal. I messaged home asking to be sent some yellu-bella, and my mom, bless her, actually couriered me an entire big box of the stuff [which was then consumed by ants].

I was missing pongal that evening. One of my uncles makes deadly khara pongal. Sweet pongal is a dish I enjoy because it’s got a texture that’s distinct to sajjige, but is marvelously delicious. In my first year, on my first pongal/sankranthi away from home, I just missed the fact that you associated festivals with food. I remember wondering how many years would go by without that association in my brain, or on my tongue.

This is my last set of festivals away from home [in the same country]. Very little has changed. I’m still thinking about yellu-bella, something I opted-out of getting back to campus because of my fear that the ants would consume it all. I’m still thinking about some pongal and if I can get my hands on that today. However, in addition, I’m thinking about the glorious undhiyun my mess is going to serve. I’m thinking about hot jalebis, and fafda.

College has definitely impacted me in more ways than I can recount, but my palette is definitely one of them.

It’s really cold in Gandhinagar. Okay, it isn’t as cold as other parts of India get, and it’s surprisingly warmer outside my room than it is on the inside, but I feel really cold here. I always have. It’s why, although I enjoy the even semesters on campus a lot, I’m a fan of the odd semesters: specifically September and October, when the rain has subsided, and the winds blow a cool breeze across campus. I much prefer the heat to the cold. Despite living in India for 11 years now, I don’t think my body has fully acclimatized to the country. It’s cold enough for me to always be wearing a jacket and multiple layers, to prefer pyjamas over shorts or anything of the sort, and pretty much always have socks on to keep my feet warm.

Staying here in December 2017 increased my capacity to withstand the brutal cold, but not by much, to be frank.

The sun’s out and everything, but since one of the windows in my room broke, I’ve been struggling with the cold wind entering my room. To combat this, I devised the greatest thing I’ve ever come up with: heating up some water.

Usually when I drink warm water from my kettle, I never allow for it to heat up to the kettle’s maximum. I’ll maybe shut it off within about 30-40 seconds, because I don’t have the palette or the desire to consume overly heated water. I much rather prefer warm stuff. But now, I let the kettle heat up completely – till the water inside boils and it auto-switches off. Then I warm my hands by holding the sides of the kettle. I can do this for minutes together – almost 20-30 minutes before the water is of a consumable temperature, and then drink the warm water to warm myself up completely.

 It gets me feeling fuzzy and nice on the inside, which is honestly all I can ask for in this weather. One thing I realized a little later, however, is that I feel terrible about the kind of energy I’m wasting. As a result, I do this less often: only when it’s cold enough to warrant the consumption of warm water. Otherwise I put a brave face on and make it through the day by wearing my layers and socks.

This might serve me well if I move abroad. It may not. Only time will tell.

Keeping a clean room was never really a forte of mine. I’m not strong with continuous maintenance. I prefer cleaning-up in cycles. Cleaning up frequently, rather than daily: to reorganize and get stuff in order, or where I want stuff to be. This was at odds with my family when I was growing up, given that the house was cleaned up and reorganized on a daily basis: to ensure things were never out of place. My mum’s philosophy towards things is that they should always be where you expect them to be. The problem is that for me, that’s very different to what typical organization looks like. I expect things to be where I’ve mapped out a place for them in my brain – which is often not where you’d intuitively grab for things.

This made moving into the hostel a lot easier. I no longer had to organize in a manner that suited aesthetics or suited how my parents wished for things to be organized. I could organize the way I wanted to. That freedom was something I found very liberating for a long time, because while I could keep the room clean – I didn’t have to bother too much about its aesthetics. Something I learned pretty quickly though is that aesthetics matter; and they matter because they often reveal how organized a place is. I learned to organize in a way that looked presentable. My University instituted this clean room award thing: an award I derided and laughed at, but hoped I’d win. If nothing, just to show my parents I had this clean room I actually maintained without their interventions.

Each time I come back to campus I have to undertake a massive cleaning effort. It takes ages, and honestly is one of the most cathartic things I do when I come back for a new semester. It makes this place feel like home again. I know I’m not going to win that clean room award. Of that I’m very certain. But, I know that my room is clean. It’s the cleanest it will be for the rest of the semester. I’ll take that and move forward.

I’ve been thinking about returning to campus for a while. I’m not sure how I feel about it at the moment, so I’m hoping that this entire essay I end up typing out will become about my feelings. I can’t promise you anything though.

This is the last time I have to go back to Gandhinagar for the start of a semester. I’m sure I’ll visit Gandhinagar in the future. I have no doubt about that. But its the last time I need to go say “wow, a new semester at GNLU”. It’s the last few months of “oh, I’m studying for my undergraduate degree in Law”. That’s weird. It’s weird to think that these are phrases I won’t recycle when May comes around. It’s odd to think that my “growing up” has reached some stage of finality. I’ve learned so much. Especially in the last few months.

Returning is defined as “coming or going back to a place or person”. I didn’t expect to see person included on that definition – it’s caught me a little off guard. In a sense though, I am going back to people. My roommate, my neighbours, my batchmates, my juniors, my friends. There are categories and swathes of people with whom my relationship is defined by our interactions on this campus. Come May, it appears as though that relationship will change forever, if it hasn’t already.

I think it’s best to figure out these feelings as time passes by.

The winter has given me a newfound love for my family. This isn’t to say I didn’t love them before, or love them as deeply earlier. It’s just to say that I had fallen out of touch with what that meant or extended to. Distance and time changes relationships. That’s a universal fact, and my own relationship with my family, and my extended family, has been through being separate – and having a large amount of distance/time separate us, to living next to each other, within the same house. Naturally, the dynamics are different in each phase. I’ve known that going to University has meant that I’ve fallen out of touch with several members in my family – because I don’t see them as frequently and get to share stories with them, but it’s also meant that we’ve cherished all the time we’ve spent with each other, to catch up as best as possible.

Every occasion my family decides to spend time together is a memorable one. Today, we got together to celebrate my great-grandmother’s (Big Ajji) 92nd/93rd birthday. Her daughters and some spouses, my mum and her sister, her caretaker, and me. A small crowd, but a crowd that literally brought tears to her eyes when she got to hear us sing happy birthday and cut her cake.

We got her this gigantic yellow cake: a pineapple flavoured cake that contained frosting and icing representing her favourite Indian sweets and snacks. Big Ajji loves eating things she shouldn’t be eating – especially the sweet stuff and the spicy stuff. Naturally, one of the first things she went for was the icing itself: the icing murukku they had supplied on the top of the cake. It was hilarious. She was so eager to get to eating the cake that she didn’t want to wait for a knife to cut it. She cut her first piece with her fingers.

My Big Ajji is a gem. She’s got a childlike enthusiasm about her most days she’s sitting up. I admire that tremendously, and the two things I know, deep in my heart, is that first, I’m not going to let anyone in my family lose that – I’m going to do everything in my power to keep that childlike enthusiasm alive. Second, I’m going to ensure I don’t lose it myself.

There’s a lot of comfort in a good sandwich. I follow this subreddit, r/grilledcheese, where people post pictures of grilled cheese sandwiches they’ve made at home – and it never fails to bring a smile to my face when I see one. I think the ingenuinity of it comes from the creativity in picking out a type of bread and a mix of cheeses to get a result that leaves you happy – and the fact that there are so many combinations that are possible, with that limited set of ingredients. It’s always joyful to see. Another subreddit I enjoy is r/sandwiches. The art of constructing a sandwich isn’t one that I want to delve into too much detail on, but it’s something I truly admire. It’s a skill I’ve been trying to master for years.

My mum made me a snackbox to eat during “break”time in school when I was in primary school in Dubai. Sometimes, she made me these cucumber sandwiches I loved, which used to make my day really frequently. We also had a really nice sandwich maker at home, a maker that essentially created these triangular sandwiches that were closed pockets filled with some great surprises: because I couldn’t see into it till I had taken a bite. My favourite one was a cheese-sweetcorn mix. Sandwiches eventually evolved into the unhealthy really quick: I grew into nutella and peanut butter and eating those with a passion, and excess filling on any sandwiches.

For a while though, the sandwich moved away from my primary staple comfort food for snacking. A large part of this was some drive to become healthier: by trying to eat ragi, or fruits, or something else apart from bread. Another part of this stemmed from trying to ensure some amount of diversity among my snacks in life.

That was until, very kindly, all of us began ditching our snackboxes to dine on the chutney cheese sandwiches another friend of mine got daily for his dabba. It was almost like aunty began packing extra sandwiches for him because she knew two of us would be eating one of them. They were perfect. So perfect, that on a trip to Pondicherry, aunty made us a loaf of chutney cheese sandwiches to take with us for the entire car ride. They were the first snacks we consumed (read: demolished).

Moving to University, the cheese sandwich remained a staple in my diet. I put this down to the fact that we’ve got a separate counter for the cheese sandwich on our campus, and also the fact that its the one food that you’re able to chomp down on the way to class.

In Bangalore, I really enjoy frequenting a sandwich shop. I know it sounds absurd: visiting a shop that basically puts bread slices together and some fillings to boot, but this place makes the most incredible sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. I’ve always visited this place with one of my closest school mates. Today, I visited it with one of my University seniors. Although the company was different, the bread and its contents tasted unchanged.

I intended this to be an ode to sandwiches, and the delight of eating them. Instead, now, I’ve been distracted to the extent that I’ve forgotten what I was writing on about and the emotion I wanted to capture. Now, I’m craving a cheese sandwich.

That tells you enough about the power of bread, I think.