Prisha sat on a wooden bench, her colorful lunchbox perched on her lap. The aroma of spicy samosas wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass. Her friends, Tim, Sam, Lia, and Kitty, gathered around, their curious eyes peering over her shoulder.
"What's that smell?" Tim asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Yeah, it looks weird," Sam chimed in, pointing at the flaky pastry of the samosa.
Prisha felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, her fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of her lunchbox. "It's just my lunch," she mumbled, trying to ignore the sting of their words.
The laughter echoed in Prisha's mind as she sat in class, the teacher's voice a distant hum. Her heart ached with each mocking glance from her classmates. The once delightful thought of her mother's cooking now filled her with dread.
"Why don't you bring something normal?" Kitty whispered, her tone a mix of curiosity and disdain.
Prisha nodded silently, her resolve hardening. The next day, her lunchbox held a plain sandwich, its blandness a stark contrast to her usual vibrant meals.
Days turned to weeks, and Prisha felt an unfamiliar emptiness settling in her chest. The colorful spices and rich aromas she once loved were missing from her life, replaced by a tasteless void. Her mother, Aditi, noticed her daughter's changed demeanor.
"Is everything alright, dear?" Aditi asked gently.
"I just want to fit in," Prisha replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
The school's multicultural event was announced, a chance for students to share and celebrate their diverse backgrounds. Prisha hesitated at first, memories of her classmates' reactions fresh in her mind. But Aditi was determined.
"This is our chance to show them how wonderful our culture is," Aditi encouraged, her eyes shining with pride.
With renewed courage, Prisha joined her mother in the kitchen, the familiar scents of coriander and cumin filling the air as they cooked together.
On the day of the event, Prisha stood behind a table adorned with a feast of Indian dishes—samosas, biryanis, and gulab jamuns, each plate a testament to her heritage. Her classmates approached hesitantly, their curiosity piqued by the colorful display.
"This looks amazing," Lia admitted, reaching for a samosa.
"I've never tasted anything like this before," Sam exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.
As the event continued, Prisha watched her classmates savor each bite, their initial skepticism melting into admiration. Her heart swelled with pride, a newfound confidence blossoming within her.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, her voice strong and clear.
Her classmates nodded, their expressions sincere. "Your food is awesome, Prisha," Tim admitted, his tone genuine.
In that moment, Prisha realized that her culture was a gift to be shared, not hidden. Her journey had come full circle, transforming her classmates' mockery into admiration and sparking a newfound appreciation for diversity.
