Peeled Oranges by Samaira Mohunta (16, India)

I.
You carried carrots, ‘poha’ and
eggs in your tiffin everyday.
Sometimes cucumbers, too.
Your own friends would slice you
into two
with a butter knife right down the centre
And sprinkle ‘chaat masala’ on you,
{mocking you by saying that it was
bad for you} 

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That you would have otherwise sprinkled on your fruit.
It’s not that you were not allowed to indulge on the tangy, saccharine and sweet verses of what everyone had everyday - You just didn’t
because that might’ve meant
Not being able to do
what you were born to do.
You didn’t have spicy ‘chaats’;
It was always peeled oranges for you. You thought no one would ever notice No one would ever care,
But, trust me, I did. I do.
II.
For the first time
On my birthday
you carried something
Other than your fruit.
You left it on my desk
with a yellow card
from you.
you couldn’t look me in the eye and say
what I had already heard
from that packet
full of
sweets.
III.
The next morning I brought the packet With me to school again.
Switched places with my best friend to sit right next
To you.
I opened the packet during class
and asked you if you would have
Just one piece
For me.
“Not even for you,” you said, “No,”
And that just made me fall in love with you So
Much
More.
IV.
When you’re a famous cricketer
and have 100 beautiful girls willing to peel oranges
For you,
please just promise
me
that you’ll remember how you
bought snickers for
me and I ate them with you in school. 

Samaira Mohunta is a 16 year old Indian writer studying in grade 11 at The Shri Ram School, Moulsari. She runs a litmag called NovelNomenal. Her notes app is a refined romanticisation of her feelings; writing helps reduce the magnitude of emotion she sometimes feels; it makes her happier. Her work has been published by Scholastic and The Weight Journal.

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