“What’s that smell?”
Sarada pursed her lips and looked around. The popular girls were leering at her. And her lunch. Sarada masked her embarrassment by responding confidently.
“It’s my lunch. It’s a traditional Indian dish. Dosa.”
The girls erupted into a cruel guffaw. Sarada could feel her face getting redder as a wave of panic washed throughout her body. The most popular girl, the meanest, Penny, walked up to Sarada and with a sweeping motion, knocked Sarada’s lunch box onto the floor.
“Oops,” she smirked sarcastically, as she flipped her hair. “I’m doing do you a favour. Try to have a normal lunch next time.”
Sarada felt a ball of fury in her stomach. She collected her books and ran to the corner of the oval, where she curled up in a small ball.
Later that night, Sarada stared at her dinner with resentment.
“Everything ok? You’ve barely touched your butter chicken.”
Sarada’s eyes were glassy behind a veil of tears.
“It’s just…” she began, fumbling for words. “Why do we have weird food? Can you pack me a normal lunch like a vegemite sandwich or sausage roll?”
Sarada’s mum put her hands on her hips.
“Our food isn’t weird,” she said defiantly.
Sarada replied scornfully. “Then why are all the kids laughing at me? I just want a normal lunch that doesn’t smell. I hate being Indian!”
Sarada’s mum sighed. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
The next day at school, Sarada opened her lunchbox to find that her mum had packed her a ham and cheese sandwich. Sarada was delighted.
A moment later, Penny came up to Sarada and looked at her lunch.
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “You have some normal food. I’m so happy you don’t stink up the canteen anymore.”
She walked away.
Sarada stared at her lunch. She thought she would be happy, but instead, she felt empty inside. Penny’s words didn’t give her any satisfaction. If anything, it almost made her feel guilty. She had betrayed her culture and her mother to appease Penny. The hollow feeling ate at her. She picked up her sandwich and nibbled at it.
That night, Sarada gnawed at the pizza. Unlike all the other times she had enjoyed pizza, this pizza tasted bland.
Suddenly, she heard a strange voice.
“You’re looking down, little one.”
Sarada looked up to see the source of the voice. She couldn’t see anyone else in the room.
“It’s me, Ganesha.”
Sarada’s mind whirled. Ganesha? The Indian God?
“Look at the statue,” Ganesha commanded.
Sarada looked at the statue of Ganesha that was on the little shrine by the corner of the room. It was hovering above the counter.
Sarada gasped and fell to her knees. She thought it was the right thing to do in the presence of a god.
“It’s okay,” said the voice. “I’m just here to talk.”
Sarada looked up at the statue.
“About what?” she managed to blurt out.
“Your identity crisis,” said the voice. “Are you Indian or not?”
Sarada gasped. Surely, she hadn’t insulted the Gods by refusing her dosa?
“It’s okay, child,” soothed the voice. He chuckled. “You are Indian, you are also Australian.”
Sarada remained silent.
“You must find balance,” continued the voice. “You must honour your culture. You must honour your parents. But you must also honour yourself. Don’t give up on who you are. It’s not easy being Indian and Australian. You are fortunate to have the gifts of both cultures. You have two homes, and both are equally yours. However, you might not fit in completely with one because you have the other. This is your blessing’ not curse.”
Sarada nodded. She understood.
The next day at school, Sarada handed a brown paper bag to each of her classmates. Many of them were curious and opened it: inside was something brown and shaped like a pyramid.
“Hey everyone!” announced Sarada loudly. “I’ve brought everyone a bit of Indian food to try. Samosas! Please try them and let me know what you think.”
Students opened their mouths to take a bite. Many of them nodded in approval and swallowed the rest.
“It’s really good!” cried a boy.
“Delicious!”
“Wow!”
Penny, took a small bite and couldn’t help but enjoy them. “They taste amazing!” she admitted.
Nobody ever made fun of Sarada’s lunches again. Sometimes, they would ask to try some. Sarada was too happy to share.
She had found her place.