Gujarati In-Flight Cuisine

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I guess I just was not prepared for a journey by train. I mean, gastronomically.
If you’re accustomed to flying and to cabin crew bringing out trays of waxen edibles, you forget that you must take food with you on a train.
It takes about a day, 24 hours, to get from Bangalore to Mumbai on the Udyan Express and there I was with a croissant, a packet of chips and two cans of Diet Coke.
Bangalore sailed by my window and greenery yielded to open fields and naturally, my thoughts drifted to the croissant, on which I would gorge to the envy of my fellow passengers — a substantial Gujarati family — and what’s more, I speak Gujarati fluently.
As it turned out they had the same idea. Someone said “food” in Gujarati and the cousins who debated the dropping of Saurav Ganguly fell respectfully silent.
In seconds newspapers were spread out across the compartment. I raised my legs to allow the Sports section to serve as a placemat for my immediate neighbour.
A huge basket was pulled from under a seat.
Plates emerged from nowhere.
Parathas followed dhokla followed pickle.
I replaced my croissant quietly. I silently twisted in envy and hunger.
“You there!” the matriarch said. I snapped to attention and saluted, “Ma’am.”
“Look at you. Thin and starving.” I preened at this compliment.
“Eat!” she barked.
I ate. I even beat the quarrelling cousins to helpings of thepla and mango pickle.
I ate till I could eat no more. And before the approving matriarch could offer my hand in marriage to a cousin, I fell asleep.
By the time we steamed into VT, I had bested the family at their own dinner and
I ate all their gulab jamun.
And then, I loosened my belt and saved the croissant for the long cab ride home.