Comfort Food

The clock slowly ticks towards midnight. It’s been a long evening with your favourite people. You broke bread, drank a little and talked too loudly. There is no rush. You have no place else you want to be more than you want to be here. It is peaceful.

The music is distant and obscure. Disapproving stares and thinly veiled contempt bounce off your table. You converse with reckless abandon. It is time to go home but you just stepped out. They just refilled the water jug. Even the restaurant wants you to stay a little longer.

The plates pile up on your table and you run out of cutlery. You ordered half the menu and everyone is still hungry. Feet outstretched, throats parched, you order one more round for the table. A friend has to part but your party is unfazed. We are here today.

You know very little about each other. There is kinship, a sense of camaraderie in dipped bread and misspoken toasts. The shadows grow long and the air conditioning gives up for the night. You, we, everyone seeks a continuance.

There is comfort in the company you keep. The venues shift, outfits vary but the characters are stubborn. A degree of defiance sets us apart even as we sit together. No single thread connects our conversations. There is shared history but it stays in the past.

The lights are bright, glaring at night. The table diminished with each stop for the evening. You melt in armchairs rescued from country firesides. In the staccato of nearby conversation, you discuss almost as an aside. The wooden tabletop groans under the weight of a solitary dessert.

You depart earlier than expected and later than once thought. No one is surprised. All that remains are dessert spoons brandished on top of an empty plate. The ice cream never melted. You were precise and left no signs of a struggle.

A stumble, and you fell in the pursuit of comfort food. It is a silver-tongued lie. You are teased into believing that comfort food brings ease. It misdirects that a dish could return you to a time where you were nerveless. You were brazen and firm, and that food was the reason why.

The fairytale of a magic dish captivates every generation. It is easier to believe that a dish can transport you instead of believing you have agency to move yourself. A bite can banish your troubles. Fairytales persist because we don’t have the heart to disprove them.

There is comfort in food. I have also found comfort in the company of friends which lasts longer than the final crumb on your plate. They blindly believe in you and believe for you. The laughter echoes even after the pours cease. Food has its place but so do people who sit with you long after the food turns cold.

Arjun’s note: I hope you enjoyed Edition 22. Please share the newsletter (linked here) with your most opened Whatsapp group chat and ask them to subscribe.