The Breakfast Delay

Rakesh bought an idli parcel outside his apartment and told himself he would eat it at work. This was a sensible intention based on an arrival estimate that had not yet met the rest of BTM Layout.

His cab driver, Mohan, greeted him. Rakesh settled into the back, fastened his seat belt and placed the parcel upright in a reusable bag. The aroma occupied the remaining available space.

For the first twelve minutes, he behaved like a man transporting breakfast.

Then the traffic slowed. His stomach made a suggestion. He ignored it. The cab advanced a little. His stomach submitted the suggestion again with more supporting evidence.

“Would you mind if I ate the idlis?” he asked Mohan.

“Carefully, sir. Please keep everything clean.”

Rakesh agreed. He had tissues, a spoon and a secure lap-sized container. The driver had no interest in sharing the task, only the vehicle. Rakesh opened the parcel without involving the front seats in the operation.

The first idli disappeared during a long wait. It was soft, warm and deeply persuasive. He closed the lid, planning to preserve the second for the office.

The office called.

His teammate Kavita wanted to know whether he would join the morning review remotely if delayed. Rakesh, speaking quietly as a passenger, said yes. He kept the food closed during the call and supplied a perfectly competent update. This reassured him that the morning still contained adult decision-making.

After the call, he ate the second idli.

The sambar remained. It was in a small sealed container, sitting upright and apparently confident about its future. Rakesh decided against opening anything liquid while the vehicle was moving. He put it away and watched the route instead.

At a suitable stopping area later, Mohan paused briefly for his own planned break. Rakesh asked whether he had time to finish the rest. Mohan said he did. The sambar was consumed in the parked car with reasonable dignity and no effect on the upholstery.

The chutney required more negotiation. There was no idli left. Rakesh regarded the container with the sadness of a person who had completed one part of a relationship prematurely.

Mohan returned from his break with tea. “Finished, sir?”

“Almost.”

He examined the remaining chutney. “You can keep for later.”

Rakesh nodded. It was good advice. Later had become the central management principle of the meal.

They continued. His breakfast was mostly finished, his bag was tidy, and the cab remained clean. He still had not reached work. The original plan had become a sequence of small, edible compromises.

Kavita messaged: CAFETERIA BREAKFAST CLOSES SOON. WANT ANYTHING?

Rakesh stared at the phone. He was not precisely hungry, but he had expected the emotional satisfaction of arriving, sitting down, and beginning a meal. Instead, breakfast had dissolved into the journey like a meeting with no formal end.

He replied: MAYBE COFFEE.

He messaged Kavita to say the coffee would be welcome but there was no need to delay her own breakfast. She replied that her meal had occurred at a table, in one continuous session. Rakesh considered this an enviable format.

At the office, he thanked Mohan, took all his packaging, and deposited it appropriately inside the building. Kavita met him near the lifts holding a coffee and a banana she had purchased on her own initiative.

“You look as if you’ve had a complicated morning.”

“Breakfast happened gradually.”

She handed him the banana.

At his desk, Rakesh opened the lunchbox he had packed the night before. Inside were two neat chapatis and a small vegetable dish. He checked the time, closed the box firmly, and pushed it away.

Kavita noticed.

“Not yet?”

“Lunch deserves a destination.”

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.