The Noon Talk

When we were promoted to the auditorium, I thought we were going to breathe plenty of fresh air. But the air remained the same, it  again smelled of chalk powder, plastic water bottles, and sweat that formed the typical class room smell which infused a little anxiety and longing to reach home.

The intervals and the lunch time were the only freedom hours for the little minds in those congested class rooms. Congestion does not mean congestion of space, but it could be congestion to tell answers fearing the long cane, congestion of little enmities, congestion of the black tie around the neck, even congestion of nose for someone spreading the cold for all around him. All through the four years spend at the primary classes , I had felt that only the lunch time decongested the noses and the nausea. Intervals were meant to pee at the ammonia smelling bathrooms, on the back side of the two storied old LPS building. The backyard was otherwise a vicious attraction, open enough to lure the little minds to play, but Sr.Anslem with her long cane hidden in the ripples of her white gown, could appear at anytime. Most often it would be a guerrilla attack, our little army had no idea that Sr.Anslem always enjoyed a birds eye view from from her spacious office room on the top. 

Let me come back to the lunch time.

We had two types of lunch packs, first the ordinary meals, which was meant for the commoners like most of us. We had to sit with our lunch boxes on the long narrow mats lined up at the  long corridor on the right side of the auditorium, and eat the lunch. Never ever the noon time had been pleasant, either the music teacher or Sr.Anslem herself would walk through the middle of the sitting rows to ensure everyone is taking lunch.  

The other was the special meals.

It was meant for a privileged lot. They used to sit in the west end of the corridor, on the little cool space away from the congestions, and ate the hot lunch in big steel adukkupathram. The privileged fellows included Jayakrishnan alias JK, his brother, Jayashree, Viji Thomas, Biju and Giju the twins, Jyothish George who left after the fourth standard, and many others who lived near and far. I still remember that old woman with smiling face and the big yellow vatti on her head bringing lunch for many of them, I think she used to walk from Paruthippara. But for Jayashree it was her grandmother or servant who brought the lunch. That short old woman would wait standing with the tiffin box in a cloth bag, Sanchi, long before the noon bell rang. Jayashree used to call her ammoomma. 

For little minds the sociology of noon meals caused severe indigestion. Me and Sarat would just roam around after our food, to see JK swallowing the rice balls with a gourmet’s enthusiasm. The other things of jealousy were the steel jar that filled with butter milk, and the big tiffin boxes that comfortably stacked all the dishes and rice, without mixing each other. 

A pinch of envy always made the noon talks less delicious.