by Sudha Nair
“We’re going for chicken Frankie as my birthday treat during lunch break. Will you come, Meera?” Sonia’s pleading eyes were what started it all. I had never been outside the school gates on my own, wasn’t supposed to. Ever. Suddenly I found myself tempted and dying to go.
I was twelve, studying in seventh grade. Old enough, I’d say, but my parents had laid down the laws pretty strongly. No venturing outside the school gates. No getting out on the streets alone. In fact we were never to go anywhere alone. Period. We went to school by the bus. After school, we got back into the school bus, my sister and I, with the rest of the kids, and were dropped off right at the gates of my apartment. We were not to waste any time idling out there but to get back home quickly before my mother called to check if we had reached. Anywhere else we went, we always went with our parents. I was petrified of going out alone.
I woke up that morning, still not sure about going for the Frankie. I had declined two treats in the past. The girls at school had begun raving about the “nothing-like-it” Frankie. For every birthday party that year, the kids were handing out Frankie treats, and everybody in class was going gaga over it. I had still not even tasted it which really made me want to go all the more. There was also a problem. The popular Frankie shop lay on the other side of the school playground for which we’d have to cross two busy streets. What if I got hit by a cycle or run over by a car? All sorts of scary thoughts crossed my head. I was extremely nervous even as I gave Sonia the card I had made the night before.
“Ten of us are going. My mother gave me five hundred. I hope you’re coming,” she jumped up and down with joy.
It was so unfair. Sonia’s mother was so generous and permissive. Sonia and the other girls who were going were so lucky. But I had dared not even ask at home fearing that I would be in bigger trouble for asking when I knew what my mother was going to say. She’d probably even grill me further wondering if I’d already committed the offence. I dared not to even nod to Sonia.
As the time to go neared, Sonia couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. “Next period is lunch,” she said, her eyes shiny and wide like saucers.
I had thought of nothing else since morning. A niggle was working its way into my head. Once my mother had paid me a surprise visit at school. She hadn’t told me she was coming to pay the fees. I was stationed outside my classroom when she arrived at my class.
She panicked when she saw me outside. “What happened? Why are you out here?”
I shrunk and drooped wishing I could become invisible. My feet were beginning to feel like jelly; I thought I might collapse. She spoke to my teacher and learnt that I had forgotten to get my notebook to class. That small incident didn’t cause any trouble at home.
But what I was thinking of doing at lunch break was nothing as small. I would be severely punished, the details of which I didn’t even dare to imagine. The thought of the melt-in-the-mouth Frankie came to my mind again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from clouding my brain.
At lunch break, Sonia grasped my hand. “Come, let’s go,” she said, as if I’d already agreed. I prayed that my mother wouldn’t think of surprising me again. At the gate, the figure of the watchman loomed, and I hesitated to make it past him. I stood at the threshold for a moment, feeling elated at the thrilling prospect of the adventure, considering it for one last time before Sonia grabbed and pulled me along. “Oh, come on. We only have half an hour to get back.”
Before I knew it, Sonia was holding my hand, guiding me through the narrow school street, and soon we were at the muddy playground with sparse patches of green. It stretched wide all the way to the other end where I couldn’t even see the road beyond. We broke into a run to save time, my black shoes quickly turning muddy brown. At the end of the ground was the second street with heavier traffic. Cars, scooters, and rickshaws zoomed by, too impatient to slow down for the eleven school girls trying to cross the street. Whether it was from the running or the anxiety of this daring act, my heart was thumping violently. Sonia and I raised our hands up together to slow down the oncoming traffic, and finally managed to cross the road. The Frankie shop was down a few steps below the road level. Sonia entered, headed straight up to the counter and placed the order, asking him to hurry up. We followed her inside and took our seats. The whole shop had a warm, steamy fug, aromas of chicken trapped inside the cramped space mixed with the pollution from the street outside. We still have twenty minutes to go, announced one of the girls who had remembered to bring a watch. My hunger pangs now overpowered even my crazy heartbeat. I couldn’t wait to try the Frankie for which I had ventured this far.
In five minutes I was holding the hot Frankie in my hand, half of the large whitish roti wrap, speckled with brown spots from the cooking, showing up above the butter paper wrapping on the lower half. The aroma of the tikka gravy inside floated up my nose. The onions within crunched as I bit off a large piece of the soft, fluffy roti wrap. The chunks of chicken melted in my mouth. I closed my eyes to savour all of the flavours and textures stirring up all the sensations in my taste buds. The girls had been right. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever eaten before. I took another bite, pulled down the wrapper, then another. Another big bite. And another. In minutes I had finished it all. Only the thick, spicy juice remained, trickling down my wrist from the open wrapper. I took a tissue and wiped my hand and mouth, still feeling the hot and tingly feeling of spice on the roof of my tongue, my belly gratefully content.
We had only about ten minutes left to hurry back the way we came. We ran, snaking through the snarling traffic, running across the muddy playground, onto the school street, rushing past the school gates, and into the classroom. Sonia held my hand all the way. It was only when I sat in my class that I let out a big breath of relief.
My lunch box contents had to be finished on the bus ride home. I had to remember to wipe off my muddy shoes, but other than the maid there was nobody at home to see my guilt-ridden face. Still something inside me remained inconsolable, because I had been a disobedient girl. A bad girl. I ran over to the prayer area, knelt down with my head bowed, hands clasped, still wearing my uniform. “Please save me, God. I will never do it again. I promise,” I pleaded, whispering to Krishna, the statue of the Blue God, holding the flute playfully to his lips, a forgiving smile on his face. I remained knelt like that for a long time; I didn’t know if I’d be forgiven.
Today my daughter, Neela had got into trouble. The principal’s office had called me; they wanted to meet me. I couldn’t help but remember how, almost thirty years ago, I’d prayed for weeks and weeks that I wouldn’t be found out for sneaking out of school. We had brought up Neela very differently from our own upbringing. We were more lenient and understanding with Neela. Rules were not simply rules to be followed blindly in our household; they were discussed and honoured. A mistake, though reprimanded firmly, was always considered as a lesson for better behaviour; rules were sometimes bent if a situation demanded it.
“Neela and her friends bunked P.T. period yesterday,” the principal said. “She will be suspended if she repeats the offence.”
“She won’t do it again, sir. I promise,” I told him, concerned yet calm, confident that Neela had meant every word of the promise she’d just made to me. Neela reminded me so much of myself back when I was at school. I knew she’d keep her promise, just as I had, so many years ago. I had never gone outside my school ever again. While I still cherished that secret taste of freedom even after so many years, I couldn’t bring myself to be terribly angry at Neela, now could I?
Sudha, a mother of two, is constantly trying to pursue new avenues to push her creative boundaries. A chronic daydreamer, she is in awe of people who have followed their heart. Sudha is passionate about music, fitness, her family, and most recently, writing.
Pic: https://www.flickr.com/
