Our school canteen sold samosas for 5 rupees each from a steel tray. 2 for 9 if you
asked nicely. Nothing special about them. Potato, a bit of peas, a thick skin that went soft at
the corners. I'm 29 now and I've eaten samosas in Abids, Secunderabad, even at a 5 star wedding buffet.
None of them come close. I don't know what the canteen lady did, and I never asked. The
break was 20 minutes. We ran from class, 6 of us, and put coins on the counter at
once. My friend Faisal always counted ours out loud and was always 1 coin short. We never fixed it.
The lady gave us the samosa on a sheet torn from an old exercise book, with green chutney.
The ink from the page would come off on the samosa. We ate it anyway. Nobody got sick.
I went back to that school in 2022 for a cousin's function. The canteen is now a stationery shop.
The counter is the same. I stood there like a fool, and a boy asked if I
needed a pen. I bought a pen. It's a blue one, 10 rupees, and it writes badly.
I use it for shopping lists. I asked him where the canteen went. He said, what canteen, sir?
He was about 12. I tried making them at home with a recipe from the internet. My mother
helped with the dough. They came out fine. Crispy, a little salty, 6 of them gone in 10 minutes.
My mother said they were good. She's never lied to me about food before, so I
believe her. But they weren't the school ones, and I knew it after the first bite.