The Hanger Games

Grub

The Hanger Games

Illustration: Sushant Ahire

I

have an insidious condition and I have understood its workings only over time – and over the pyre of many relationships that I did not always want to lose. In the absence of regular meals, I get seriously hangry.

It’s a congenital disease. “Carry a fruit!” Ma would say, when I’d leave for dance lessons as a child; an intuitive plea, hoping to receive a sweaty, smelly, but smiling child. In the event of a hanger attack, my tranquiliser had to be a high dose of savoury complex carbohydrates, for which Ma and I weren’t always prepared. I hadn’t learned to read the signs yet, and when I did lose control, it would end with enough salt water to boil a portion of pasta in.

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