Snacking tales

Each day after I return from work, I examine Ash's schoolbag to check if he has any homework to do, if there is enough liquid paraffin in the bottle (his class ayah is regularly bribed to apply it on him when his skin turns dry) and if he has emptied his snackbox.
Sometimes there is a biscuit or two left, but of late none. We have progressed from boring Marie biscuits, better known as the arrowroots biscuits, to Good day Butter biscuits and some sesame-seed-topped bakery biscuits. So he is happy.
Long back the teacher had told me that it made her sad to see him eat just Marie biscuits or banana chips, and so she would make him sit near her so that he didnt grab any taboo food from his classmates. He would often tell me to pack for him a few cream biscuits, cake or noodles, just to show his peers that he ate them too.
"Please pack Good day biscuits," he told me one day. "All the children bring Good day biscuits." The next day, he tells me, that Kishore (who seems to be his best friend) fought with him for his biscuits. I dont beleive all his tales, but I enjoy the details. The teacher, he tells me, eats biscuits too but not cream biscuits.
Another day he reproaches me: "Amma, you forgot to send me a napkin." The children have to spread a napkin on their desks and place the tiffin box over it to prevent messing up.
Of late, I have been packing some murukku specially procured from Kerala, though he doesnt seem to be very fond of them now. He tells me that he sits next to Tarun, who seems to like the murukku. So he barters his murukku for Tarun's noodles or cream biscuits.

Nowadays, I remember to pack a little extra for that little boy who seems to love the ari murukku from Kerala.