We fought a few days ago. He’d disagree over the choice of the word but I refuse to budge. It didn’t start off as a “fight.” We even clarified that. It was a random conversation, which I had no idea would escalate into nonchalance, indifference and silence.
We were discussing food. Rather I was being emphatic about my dislike for a particular vegetable. He called it disrespect for food. He has a point there. But it was also an issue of semantics, which he wouldn’t concede. Hot-tempered creatures that we’re both known to be, we let it remain at that. To be fair, he held back his words.
A day after the fight, I saw “Stanley ka Dabba” in a nearby multiplex and that set the thought wheels in motion.
Here I was arguing with a man about a food item and there were school-going kids who didn’t know where their lunch was coming from. There was nothing in the movie that I didn’t already know about. The facts did not shock me. Just their portrayal rendered me numb and rotten from within. Add to that the ache of a friendship slipping away.
A few words were all it took.