Ulcers

Ulcers

I’ve lost count of how many days it has been since I stopped having lunch.

There is a hospital next to my workplace, and like any hospital, it has a canteen. I used to go there with a friend for lunch; who was good at heart, but complained about how small the fish was in his curry or when he got them fried. The place was run by women, or so it seemed. The ones that cooked, waited the tables and at the counter were all women. And like most women I knew, they were sincere in what they did, till the end; and so we ate, very good lunches.

and now, I’ve lost count of how many days it has been since I stopped having lunch…

The day was dry hot and sticky; like a summer day misplaced. I checked inside the car to see what it had to offer.. Five.. maybe seven rupees.. I locked the door and headed out through the giant rolling gates, hands held high, eyes mere splits on the skin of my face; the sunlight blinded me.

I walked slowly to the small shop on wheels behind the tree near the hospital. There the not-too-old man stood all day and made a living. His being the only other institution next to the hospital apart from ours, it was hard to miss. He wore a blue shirt and a checkered dhoti everyday.

As I walked up to the small shop on wheels, he greeted me as he always did, with a grin and a mocking “hello sir! had your lunch?”

No I hadn’t as always these days..

I grabbed some kappalandi midayi(moongphali patti, Peanut candy) as usual and ordered my usual lime soda with the special ginger paste if he had any left. Without me answering his question, he started to get to work on my drink as I kept on grabbing more to eat. “You know you will get ulcers sooner or later… and then it won’t be fun.. I’m not joking..” I nod as I am supposed to, drink my drink, pay up and leave..

I did want to tell him that I already had them.. not because of my days without lunches or breakfasts or dinners.. but maybe because of my days without hope.. maybe its because I don’t hear her voice in the morning; the sweet sound that keeps me going.. or its the countless hours talking to them knowing that only a few will make it through.. or maybe.. maybe.

I wondered, as I walked back from lunch in monotony, if all the good parts in my head were gone.. replaced by gaping bleeding holes..