Those Eight Bucks!!

Year: 2003.
Location: Moti Canteen, Sainik School Tilaiya.
It’s not always about what your parents teach you. It’s also not always about what your teachers have taught you. A lot of times, it’s about what the environment makes you learn.
I was 13 years old and studying in class VIIth.
One fine evening, bored of the regular milk cakes, biscuits, pea nuts and samosas on tea breaks, I wished for a change. I wished for something more exciting. But all the exciting things in life, at that point of time, seemed expensive.
Aaloo-anda used to be a rage among the students but I guess I didn’t have enough money for that. So, I made my mind for Eggroll, which used to cost eight bucks back then.
Dressed in an orange house colour shirt and white half pant, while returning from sports ground, I made an excuse to my seniors of going to see the doctor and sneaked out of my house fall-in. The sun was all set to set and I was just excited for the eggroll more than the fact that there were no more Mithila-Kunwar Singh hostels on the way. Seniors from these two houses were the nightmare for the juniors.
Finally, I reached Moti canteen.
There wasn’t much crowd and Mrinal Jee, the owner of the canteen, who could also be spotted on the football court many times, was sitting there with his big pot belly.
I placed my order, gave him the money, and straightway walked inside the kitchen. I kept tracking the whole process of my eggroll being made, all hungry and every passing minute seemed like an hour. Trust me, I kept standing there, waiting, with my mouth all watered.
I could still remember as id it was just this noon. The way that bhaiya was cooking, his hand movements, the black coloured overused pan on that stove amidst the earthen base outside the canteen, the pile of egg cartons and the bunch of paper hanging to be used for rolling the rolls. Everything. And now that I think of it, I feel I can also somewhat remember the scent of freshly made eggrolls there.
Meanwhile, a part of me was also scared that what if any of the seniors pass by and catch me there in the canteen. I could feel the palpitation as I had lied to them.
By that time, the egg roll was handed over to me and I had never seen an egg roll that big and beautiful. But in that moment which lasted for hardly five seconds, filled with excitement mixed with fear, I heard some footsteps and my hands shook and somehow the eggroll dropped.
I dropped the roll and two big fat drops of tear rolled down my cheek.
Somehow, Mrinal jee happened to see this. I don’t know how, but he did. And as I was starting to leave with that heavy heart, he called me, smiled and said ‘That’s it? Don’t worry. I am ordering another one and it’s on me.’
For several minutes that followed, I couldn’t say anything. I just couldn’t utter a word. I kept looking into his eyes while a couple of more tears kept rolling. There was so much going on within me that I felt numb. And I could never forget his smile, the way he lovingly looked at me as I was his youngest brother, may be his own son.
Next thing, I went straightaway with my chin buried in the chest and took a seat this time. I don’t remember when the egg roll came and when did I finish it. I just remember that no egg roll has ever tasted that way again in my life so far.
It’s been years and the memory of this one incident keeps coming back to me. Modesty, humbleness, sharing, caring and most important of all, Empathy — I got so much that day, in just eight bucks!