Anupam Aysha
The first time I got out of home was when I started living in the CUSAT Hostel. I didn’t like the place. It never resembled home. I hated going back there after class. And if you know me, you would know that all the hatred would start from one point: not getting good food.
I would take my time and money and go and eat at Falafil Dubai or some other nearby cafes in-order to skip the mess food. It was not that bad, but it reminded me that I was not home.
That was also the reason for me to go home every weekend. First two months, on every Friday evenings, I would be ready with three bags of laundry on my shoulder and one bag of home sickness on my head, waiting for the Uber auto that would drop me at the CUSAT Metro station which was just 500 metres away.
Umma, Papa and Juman would wait for me at the railway station, and take me straight to Rahmath or Paragon and help me evaporate the bag on my head.
And after Saturday, came Sunday evening. I will be ready again with fresh clothes and the bag of homesickness which had doubled the weight. And then came the train journey to the land of sad food.
This routine existed only for the first two months. Then came seminars, assignments and exams which asked me to not give travelling too much time.
Hostel on weekends was lovely though. No one was in a hurry. People were planning for movies, and going to the Lulu Mall. Almost all slept as and when they wanted. And some spent time in the library.
Mess on Saturday went normal. No deviation from the weekday schedule.
But, Sunday was special. My friends had told me that Sunday Lunch was Sadya.
As the cooks in the mess would have more work that day, and as we had no classes, for breakfast, it was bread, butter, jam, bananas and eggs.
I was never a lover of Bread and Jam. I had no particular craving towards Bread and Butter too. But, as always, things changes when you get out of home.
I decided to try how this would go.
I took my plate, a spoon and a cup from Room No. 18 and walked to the mess. There was no queue. On Sundays, restrictions were less. We had a student run mess and all the serving was done by us only. Students took turn each month department wise. They would budget, order, store, and provide everything for the mess purpose. It was lovely to see until it was your turn.
First on my plate, someone served 4 slices of bread. And then, a cube of butter. Then came two spoons full of mixed fruit jam. And then an egg. Banana was for vegetarians who would not have eggs. I sat on a table. Kept the plate there and when to fill tea in my cup.
While having that liquid, that waived from afar and said that it was once called tea, I was telling myself that I may have to order something for breakfast on Sundays that was to come. Going home all weekends was not happening as my schedule was getting tighter and tighter.
And then I looked on to my plate. What would I have first? A bread with butter or that with jam? None of the combinations were approved by my tastebuds. Anyhow, for the sake of hunger, I took a bread and spread a part of the red jam on it. It tasted ordinary. The excess sugary taste of jam had not controlled me, even as a child. Then it was the turn of butter. Ordinary again.
When I was about to stop eating and give the remaining two slices to someone who would want it, on the other side of the table, I saw a girl. I saw her loving what she was doing.
She took a slice from her plate, spread some butter on it and then took a small scoop of jam and spread it on the same bread. I was like, how would that make a difference?
Having had two slices, one with butter and one with jam, I found this one not an invention. Completely Unnecessary. A waste of time.
But after having a bite of it, she smiled to the remaining bread.
The food lover in my brain stood up, with an ego that was hurt. I took one of my remaining slices and did what she did. And guess what? I still remember the first bite of it. For a moment, my world stood still. And then it changed forever.
It was a truth I was never given. Butter and Jam were never supposed to stay away from each other. They worked amazing when they were together. Amazing is an understatement.
From that moment on, I decided to be a part of the butter-jam-bread family. It was too good that on days when things were not going well, I would get it ordered and make up my mind.
Bread – Jam – Butter did not taste like home. But, guess what, you can make tiny homes wherever you go.
Anupam Aysha is the Co-founder and
Editor of The Marinade Journal.
She lives in Kozhikode, Kerala.
Illustration is AI Generated.
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