Other children in my class were afraid of getting caught red handed while watching midnight porn on Ren TV.
Not me. I was afraid of getting caught with a brown paper full of samosas. Samosas that filled me from within.
Samosas stuffed with potato, but also tears, anxiety, anger and often fear. Samosas that I never tasted, just ate.
Samosas filled with habit, but also unrequited love, loneliness, rejection, betrayals of the body, and sometimes soul.
As years rolled by, I moved along, and samosas took different shapes and forms; sugar and cigarettes, but mostly booze.
When offered on a plate these days, I can have one or two, but not more, not out of the fear for myself or the past, but merely the fat.
Abhishek Anicca is a writer, poet and performer. He identifies as a person with locomotor disability and chronic illness which shapes his creative endeavours. He has written on disability and illness for the Times of India, The Quint, DNA, Mad in Asia among others. His poems have been published in nether Quarterly, Indian Cultural Forum, The Alipore Post, Samalochan, and Apni Maati.