But he said, in a scolding tone so as not to embarrass me, “Are you eating properly?” I tried to smile, as if it was a silly concern. “It was too hot, sir, that’s why I felt weak.” He looked at me for a while, and I waited to be punished. When teachers called me, that was usually what happened. But PT Sir took me up to the staff room, and handed me a tiffin box from his bag. Inside, there were several pieces of ruti folded in triangles, and vegetables. “Sit and eat it,” he said. I did, all those pipes in me clamoring for food, their need louder than my embarrassment.
