The forbidden chocolate box!

Welcome to the chaotic world of a bustling hostel, where 63 rooms house students fervently pursuing their dreams. Today, I'm here to tell you a tale about the infamous "Chocolate Box." Hold your cocoa cravings, though, because we're not talking about actual chocolates in a box.

Our story unfolds in the B-Wing girls' hostel during lunchtime. The hunger pangs hit us like a freight train, and we rush to the food hall like it's Black Friday at a discount store. The food, however, isn't exactly a Michelin-star experience. Picture this: vegetarian cuisine deep-fried in so much oil that you could surf on the lentil soup. The potatoes are practically scuba diving in it. But you know what? Hunger conquers all. We'd risk a heart attack down the line rather than endure the current pangs of starvation.

So, there I am, back in the hall, chowing down with my classmates. We're deep in conversation, discussing a professor who's a whole character by himself. This guy is the poster child for eccentricity. Curly, perpetually dusty hair, tinted glasses, flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, jeans tighter than a pickle jar, and a face that seems like it's been in a boxing match with a blender. Oh, and he has a knack for growing what looks like a salt-and-pepper lawn on his face. One day, he even sported a trail of dried saliva from lips to cheek. It was like watching a sitcom character enthusiastically flaunt his newfound language skills.

Our conversations were the epitome of randomness, but we were too engrossed in our 'facts' to care. But on this particular day, mid-convo, my classmates began behaving strangely. They started inhaling their food at warp speed, like they were in a race against the clock. I was flummoxed, utterly and completely. So, I did the only logical thing – I asked.

In response, one of them, her mouth full of half-chewed food, muttered something about a "Chocolate Box." It was a bit nauseating, to be honest, but I needed answers because I wasn't part of their secret society with its enigmatic lingo. They went on to explain the mystery behind this container that a fellow classmate brought to meal times. When she opened it, a putrid, pungent odor wafted out, assaulting everyone's senses and making them feel queasy.

Now, let me introduce you to the contents of this "Chocolate Box." We hail from the northeastern part of India, a region where everything – from palates to climates – differs drastically from the rest of the country. Here, the age-old tradition of preserving food through fermentation and dehydration thrives. Some foods are fermented not just for preservation but also for their unique, acquired taste that's almost addictive. One such delicacy is "Axone" or fermented soybean.

Axone starts as boiled soybeans, which are then lovingly fermented using ancient techniques, wrapped in banana leaves, tied up, and sun-dried until they turn a deep, rich color over an open fire. Locals use it as a flavor enhancer and often enjoy it with dehydrated pork. Thanks to modernization, you can now find it in various pickle forms and snacks. Axone is also rich in probiotics and is a star ingredient in Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and other Asian cuisines, known as miso and various other unique names.

Without being aware of Achumi, who hailed from a region where Axone was a culinary staple, her innocent indulgence in this delicacy was causing olfactory havoc. She couldn't fathom the stench because she was accustomed to its fragrance. This led to a valuable lesson: beauty lies in diversity, and cultures, including acquired tastes and smells, vary greatly.

Speaking of smells, if you're from the north of India, you're no stranger to the potent blend of humidity and unforgiving sun, which often results in a particular, shall we say, aroma? Those accustomed to it might not notice, but for outsiders like us who come from less 'fragrant' regions and enjoy pungent food, public transport, crowded classrooms and just any kind of crowd can be quite the nasal adventure. We understand, though, and don't judge. After all, don't you find it ironic that people who eat stinky food don't stink as much as those who don't?

A quick disclaimer: This is not a generalization or a personal attack on anyone from North India. It's merely a humorous take on the cultural differences and memorable experiences we encountered. Hygiene, as always, is essential.

Now, back to our lunchtime escapade – my classmates fled the moment Achumi took her seat, laughing and embracing the notion that unity thrives in diversity, and unique cultures deserve respect.

I hope you enjoyed this read, I have more stories coming up so please stay tuned.....