The Irking Question

Having a solitary dinner in a rather posh restaurant can affect your appetite. The menu card might be a compelling read, but the fact that you are alone would just put a check on your interest. I was in a similar situation a couple of days back in a hotel in Pune. The menu card was studded with star dishes coupled with super star rates. However, rates were not going to bog me down. I was in a mission to hog. I had not dined at a restaurant for many months now, and my taste buds had not only died, it had been given last rites as well.

I had just finished ordering and waiting for my meal to come when a rather boisterous family came along. The family comprised of a man, a woman and their son who was probably 5 -6 years old. Kids have an unusual adrenaline rush when they have outings. Parents try to control the gusto of the child, as they feel that the excitement of the kid would reveal the fact that they don’t take the kid outside to the society. And hence, the control of the kid’s emotion starts at an early age itself.

This kid wanted to play around, he wanted to talk to all the customers (I guess the Manager of the restaurant ought to learn something from the kid) He wanted to taste Paneer Butter Masala, but was controlled by his discipline freak parents. It is a different issue that he wanted to taste it from the neighbor’s platter, but still the kid wanted to have a ball ; and the parents weren’t given him one( in other words , the kid’s dad didn’t have the balls for it).

I was admiring the kid when he suddenly walked up to me. He was rather shy, and was smiling at me. In order to be polite, I offered the kid some snacks that were present on my table. But he resisted the temptation to accept my offer. I guess the kid had eye balls on his back of the head, as he could vision his parents glaring at my attempt to being polite and kind.
“What is your name? “, I asked the kid softly.
“My name is Sanjay”, the kid was quick to answer. I was sure that his parents would have made him memorize the answer. I was just about to ask the kid another question when he came up with one.
“Aap ka kya naam hai? Aap kahan se ho?”, the kid seemed to have built a good rapport with me as he was talking in his mother tongue.
I twitched, I was uncomfortable. I tried to escape from the question, by offering him some Papad not knowing that only kids were not victims of bribery in India.
“Ah!! I don’t speak Hindi Kid!” I replied to the kid, feeling ashamed.
The kid blinked. He didn’t comprehend the answer that I gave. He scratched his head, rather violently which sprinkled some dandruff on the Papad.
“But uncle, Hindi toh Hamara Official Language hai Na?” the kid had hit the nail not on my head, but in the backsides of many people. He had hit the nail not only on me, but on a dying politician who refused to let the Official Language creep into schools of his state. On people who had hatred towards their fellow Indians from the northern part of the country. On states that fought for ownership of Major cities. On people who vandalized public property in the name of protecting state’s culture. On people who man handled their countrymen for their “sons of the soil” status.

I just smiled at the kid, he ran away in a couple of minutes. I wish I could answer his question in the Official language. But I couldn’t. Minutes later, the food that I had ordered for arrived, but I already had some food for thought. Thanks to the kid.