A Day Opens Slowly

It was a day like no other in Moscow. The day was blessed with the ideal temperature, not too cold, not too hot. Nazim royally got up around 9.30 am and watched his favorite program ‘Click’ about the latest developments in the cyber world on BBC. It was a day planned for an evening party but his guests got busy and it had to be postponed. Only Hafez had nothing to do for the day and expressed his willingness to roam in the streets of Moscow with him. Not the ordinary streets of Moscow but its historical center which has stayed despite being burned by Mongols, Tatars and Napoleon since the city was founded in 1147 A.D.

Since long Nazim had been planning to visit the gallery of Lumiere Brothers at the Central House of Artists near the Gorky Park and freed from the worry of entertaining guests and preparing for it the whole day he had found the opportunity to visit the Gallery. He called up Hafez once again and they decided to meet at the Okhtyabrskaya Metro Station and walk from there to the Central House of Artists where the gallery of Lumiere Brothers was located. Hafez had his Moscow State University Student Identity Card while Nazim had saved his old Student Identity Card from the Moscow State University, that had long expired. There was 50% discount for the students and Hafez showed his identity card which was thoroughly checked at the counter while Nazim showed his identity card from a distance. The old lady at the counter was satisfied with his infectious smile and did not bother to verify his identity card. So they got inside cheap with 100 roubles put together.

Central House of Artists is a huge complex on the bank of the river ‘Moskba’ that houses many interesting galleries, Museums and exhibition halls. The new Tretyakov Gallery is also located in that complex along with the Doll Museum.

It took them some time to locate the Lumiere brother’s gallery because it was too small a gallery compared to other galleries. When they got inside the gallery they found only a few photographs in black & white hanging on the walls and nothing impressive that they had expected earlier. These black and white artistic creations belonged to just one Russian photographer. They had to got it completely wrong. It had got nothing to do with ‘Lumiere brothers’ who are credited with the screening of the first moving pictures. A girl who sat there and was loudly talking on phone said that the gallery had taken that name just because they liked it. Nazim and Hafez were thoroughly disappointed and so they left the gallery to wonder around the hall and see the rest of the central hall. There they found some very interesting pieces of art hanging on the walls. They found a book there that had 537 blank pages, closed and it proclaimed to have secret drawings inside.

After a while finding not much of great interest they moved out in the huge central courtyard inside the Central House of Artists where a book festival was going on. All titles placed there were in Russian and books were being sold at discounted prices. The place was full of men and women and small kids. It seemed that parents had brought their kids there as a day out. The kids were playing with their parents in the courtyard.

Nazim bought espresso for two of them from a nearby Swedish café and sat outside in the shadow of a tree watching kids play with the wooden toys and sipping espresso.

Hafez had made a profound statement while he met Nazim in the morning at Okhtyabarskaya metro station-“Love is death!” Nazim could not understand Hafez and what he meant when he said “Love is death.” Hafez then at length had explained to Nazim how had he come to that conclusion while they walked from the metro station to the Gorky Park. According to him he was in love with one Russian girl called ‘Elena’ whom he had met in the University canteen at Moscow State University last year. She was a very beautiful girl as Hafez described her. He told Nazim –“she was initially interested in me but later she started playing games with me. She told me that she had a boyfriend. She gave me her e-mail address and I wrote to her several times and she responded too at times and I wrote to her how much I loved her. That girl is killing me. I can’t stop thinking of her. What should I do? How will I pass my exam? Tell me some solution of this issue.”

Nazim had told Hafez while they were walking from the metro to the park– “You should find an alternative, I mean a different girl and then you’ll slowly forget her. You like her because she is not accessible to you. The time she will become accessible you’ll start moving away from her. So forget her and find an alternative.” Hafez had said that time that he understood what Nazim was saying and would try to solve his 'issue'.

For some time the discussion on ‘Love is death’ was stopped while they were busy looking at the pictures and paintings inside the Central House of Artists but when Nazim bought Hafez a cup of coffee, Hafez could not resist to bring back the issue that had been troubling him that day since the morning.

Hafez said sipping his espresso- “I have another Russian girl who is rich but not so beautiful, by the way her name is also Elena, and she is willing to be my partner but I can’t forget the first Elena. She is killing me. She is playing games with me.”

In the meanwhile they were enjoying their coffee under the gentle sun a girl was watching them with curiosity. She approached them speaking a bit of Russian accented English. She introduced herself as Nastya. Nastya was a slim girl of the medium built. Her hair was brown- reddish and she had brown eyes. Her attitude was friendly and she easily talked and laughed with them. She said that she worked as a manager in a printing press that printed journals like Esquire and was also defending her diploma from the Institute of Printing in Moscow. After introducing herself she asked them many questions viz. from where were they, what did they do in Moscow and how long they had been there and then subsequently how old were they? She told them that she has been to India, Turkey and Egypt. In Goa she said she had spent two weeks. Hafez first introduced himself- ‘I am from Iran and a student at the Moscow State University and I am 26.’ Then Nazim followed- ‘I am Nazim from Turkey and I am a businessman here and I am 29.’After they told her their ages she immediately asked them to guess her age and Hafez like a master age-teller of women hit right on the nail. Nastya then informed her within 15 minute of their meeting that she was going to turn 23 in just a few days. They could not help themselves asking “what are doing on your birthday?” And she was as quick as lightening in her response-“I am going to spend my time with my mother at the Dacha (countryside home).” Then she automatically went on to tell them how her mother and father had met in the Soviet times. She said that her mother was from Belarus and father from Siberia and they met in Moscow one day somehow, that she did not care to explain, and decided to settle down here in Moscow. Then the conversation moved on –“Did they like Moscow?” and Hafez as always was ready with his oft-repeated phrase- “I hate Moscow”. This was certainly shocking for Nastya who was born in this beautiful city but Nazim’s great love for this city was helpful in doing some damage control. Then the discussion moved in the traditional territory of making comparison between Moscow and St. Petersburg. Hafez asked her – “Which city do you like more, Moscow or St. Petersburg?” She said-“I love Moscow as I was born here but I love St. Petersburg more because that is a more romantic city.”

Hafez was carrying a new book on Persian poetry and when Nastya saw it she immediately took it from Hafez and wanted to gift that book to her friend. Hafez offered her that may be the next week he would be able to give her that book but right now he would be very happy if she returned it to Hafez. It was a bit awkward but what to do…

Then she told them that she had bought some books at the book festival but she was feeling a bit shy to show them as she termed them as “women’s stuff”. Then eventually she showed those books she had bought at discounted prices. She had bought two books. One was the life and works of the famous Mexican painter Frida Cahlo and the other a biography of Audrey Hepburn. Nazim looked with great interest at the paintings by Frida. He had seen the Hollywood movie in which the famous Mexican actress Salma Hayek had played Frida and thus was aware of the life and works of Frida Cahlo.

They were planning to leave that place and Nazim and Hafez were interested in knowing about the interesting cafes in Moscow from Nastya. She told them that she loved the café “Propaganda” located near the metro station “Kitaigorod” as she worked nearby and it had a great business lunch at affordable 160 roubles and a set of cafes called “Piragis”. Behrouz was interested in going to Kitaigorod so they said goodbye to Nastya thanking her for her interesting chat with them, the complete strangers and enriching them with such useful and interesting knowledge about the city.

They exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch. Hafez explained to her that at times he feels extremely lonely in this huge city and would like to give her a call sometimes. She readily agreed to show him around the city whenever he calls her. They were ready to say goodbye to Nastya but she had forgotten to ask it seems a very important question and here she was-“Oh! I forgot to ask you guys, how did you meet?” Nazim immediately thought that his orientation was under threat and said-“we were both students of Russian language at the Moscow State University a year ago and we are meeting today after a very long time.” Then they parted.

They moved from the Central House of Artists towards the metro Okhtyabarskaya and then by metro they reached Kitaigorod. Hafez in the middle updated Nazim’s knowledge about the city informing him –“You know Kitai Gorod does not mean China City but Wooden City.” Nazim knew that it did not mean “China City” but “Walled City” but this “Wooden City” was news to his ears. They came out of the metro and asked people in the street about the café “Propaganda.” Hafez preferred to ask women than men and he told Nazim that he thought that women were more responsible than men. A woman told them the address of ‘Propaganda café’ and they moved on in the told direction. When they reached that street where they were told to go and were looking for Propaganda, an old man could not control himself helping them and approached them with his knowledge of the area and finally told them to go back in the same direction from which they had come. Hafez was more than happy to find a man ready to help in this big city and declared him immediately the first gentleman in Moscow who had offered them help looking at their confused faces. They wandered around half an hour in Kitaigorod looking for ‘Propaganda’ and came back to the same place where they had met the spirited old man ready to help and then they found Propaganda just two meters away from that place.

Well, fuming and furious at the first gentleman of Moscow whose able guidance had cost them half an hour of their precious time; they went inside the Cafe and enjoyed its economically priced meal. Nazim had his favorite Greek Salad and Hafez his Casear Salad. They were told by the manager before being given the table in the café that it was up to 7 pm only and Nazim was quick to tell the Manager –“We won’t be here long”! But Hafez was furious. He told Nazim-‘How can they say that kind of thing. I’ll be here as long as I want.’ Nazim had just discovered that it was in fact a night club and in day time functioned as a café and Nastya might have worked here. Hafez was hard to convince and he came up again with his ‘Love is death’ issue.

Around 6 pm they left Propaganda. The sun was still high in the Moscow sky and both of them decided to walk in the streets of the center of the city. From Kitaigorod they moved towards the Lubyanka where the Headquarters of notorious KGB were located in Soviet times. On the way they took a sneak into the beautiful Globus book shop. It was even bigger that the “Dom Kniggi”on the Arbat and had a number of books in English language. Then they moved towards Kuznetsky Most and from there towards the Tverskaya Street through the Kamergichisky side street where a large number of eateries and summer cafes were located including the famous Café De Artiste. There they met a Gypsy woman who was begging right in front of the Café de Artiste. She asked them for money and asked if they were Moslems. Hafez was interested in giving her a few roubles but as soon as she mentioned religion his hands that were searching for a few rouble coins froze inside his pockets. Hafez was opposed to giving h money in the name of religion but not opposed to begging as such. Nazim asked the Gypsy woman if he might photograph her. She readily agreed and even posed begging for Nazim’s satisfaction and Hafez was pleased too. He now had found a new reason to give her money and he gave her two coins of five roubles to her and thanking her for posing for the photograph.

Soon they were on Tverskaya Street and they walked from one end to another (from Metro Okhotni Ryad to Metro Myakobskaya) and even further in search of a bookshop called “Respublica”. Hafez had visited almost all the bookshops in the city and somehow he has not been to this bookshop yet. He did not want to miss this bookshop that had a café as well and worked twenty four hours. They visited a number of bookshops in their search of Respublica and met a few interesting people on the way. Finally they found it at the end of Tverskaya Street and went in.

At Respublica they had found some very interesting books and sat there in the café where all furniture was pink. They had espressos and talked about book, poems, some philosophical questions about individuality, freedom, war & peace and the unity of everything in the Universe. In the bookshop Hafez liked the quotation on a card so much that he wrote it down in his cell phone, wait…initially he wanted to buy it but it was priced 150 roubles so Hafez decided to write it down but there was no pen so finally mobile phone came handy. The quotation was- “Cats and women will do as they like to do and dogs and man should get used to this idea.”

They came back on the same street till Pushkinskaya metro station where a large greenish statute of Pushkin looks over and where the young lovers of the city gather in the evenings. That evening a band was playing some cool R&B music and a number of young people including a few homeless drunkards were dancing with great spirit. A young lady dancing in the center of the circular crowd was leading all the men. They asked many people including some policemen who were standing there if they knew where was the famous Café Pushkin located? They had no clue surprisingly. They had to wait for half an hour to get to the right man who knew the location but even he told them only the rough direction of Café Pushkin.

They moved in that direction and walked through the park in Tverskoy Bulevar looking for Café Pushkin but they had no luck. On the way they saw a statue of the poet Ecenin standing tall in the park. Hafez proposed a new idea by the evening that “one should marry a simple woman as the beautiful women do not stay for long with one man.” They discussed it till they reached the other end of the park. Reaching the other end of the park they asked a policeman standing there about Café Pushkin and he told them to go towards the other end of the park from where they had come. They decided to return to the Red Square walking through street Bolshaya Nikitskaya. On the way Hafez saw a church and expressed his immediate anger over Christianity. He said- “I do not understand Christianity at all as I find this idea of extending your other cheek while somebody slaps you on one cheek. Christianity is very funny.” They walked to the Metro Bibliateka Imena Lenina and took different metros to their homes.

-Copyright 2007 Abhay K.

Mishka

I was on a train from Moscow to Dzherzhinsk, a small town in the Nizhninovogorod region (earlier known as Gorky, named after the famous writer Maxim Gorky). It was train number 22 as everything in this country must have a number. Schools, hospitals, metro lines etc. they all have numbers. In case of the trains it is a rule that the lesser the number of the train, the faster it travels. And train numbers can range from 5 to 500. That does not mean that the speed of the train number 500 is 100 times slower than the speed of the train number 5. But let’s move away from this digression and go directly to the wagon number 3 inside the train.

The wagon number 3 was a general class wagon and every compartment had 4 seats on one side and 2 seats on the other side of the aisle. That night when the train number 22 was ready to leave the Kurski Vakzal(Railway Station) at midnight, that compartment had six passengers who were traveling from Moscow to Nizhni. Babushka(grandma) Vera and her grandson Sasha, Teotya(aunt) Ludmila and I sat on one side of the aisle while two men, one fat and one slim, sat on the other side of the aisle. On the small table lied a small but beautiful cage and within that cage was a very small white Egyptian mouse. Babushka had bought that mouse in 40 roubles in the Kursk city, a city located a few hundred kilometers southwest of Moscow, while she visited her daughter in that city. The cage had cost her 200 roubles, much costlier than the white Egyptian mouse himself nevertheless the cage was a fancy home for the mouse. It was large and had a roller that went round and round when the mouse ran on that. There was a small bowl in the corner inside the cage where the mouse ran to drink whenever he felt thirsty. There was food scattered all over the cushioned floor of the cage and he could eat anytime he felt hungry. Overall it was a comfortable and cozy home that was equipped with all the state of the art comforts for a mouse.

Babushka was very proud of her white Egyptian mouse. She was showing it to Teotya Ludmila and describing how did she manage to get a good bargain for such a cute mouse. Sasha was frequently troubling babushka with his excited words and worries about the mouse. They had decided to call the mouse “Mishka” and Sasha was very protective about his new mouse. He could not be kept out of any talk about Mishka. He wanted to be heard what he thought about his newly acquired pet.

The fat man on the other side of the aisle, who also happened to be very talkative, was mildly teasing Babushka. He said- “Babushka, are you going to order the bed sheet, pillow and quilt for Mishka too?” And everybody else in that compartment smiled. The talkative man continued with his jeers- “I have never seen a Babushka in jeans! Babushka you look just sixty.”
Babushka was flattered. She said- “do you know how old I am? I am seventy six.” She looked much active and younger than her age. The fat talkative man was very proud of being fat and he continued- “Do you know what I eat for such a great body?”
He continued as everybody kept silent- “I eat a lot of bamboo and rice…hahaha.”
Babushka could not keep mum and said- “are you really proud of being what you are?” She diplomatically avoided the word “being fat” there.

The fat man was getting even more talkative. Suddenly the ticket collector entered. She was dressed in a knee length blue skirt and a navy blue shirt. Her name-card was pinned right above her left shirt-pocket. Her name was Marina Vladimirovna. She was a well bult lady of medium height.

She asked for tickets one by one from everybody. Babushka showed her ticket as well as the ticket of her grandson. Once Maria Vladimirovna checked their tickets; her eyes fell on the cute white Egyptian mouse on the table. She asked babushka without wasting any time for the papers of Mishka and the permission to caary him by that train. Babushka was shocked. She said- “what stupidity is it? I have never heard in my life that one needs papers for this. Mishka is just four centimeters long. What papers? What stupidity? I do not have any papers for him and I am not going to get any papers , let me say it loud, let me say it clear, what stupidity?”
Maria Vladimirovna was outraged hearing such impudent remarks. She said emphatically- “one must pay to carry every pet, animal or bird. Babushka,Come with me and I’ll show you the different tariffs for different animals and birds.” Babushka again said- “What stupidity! Mishka is just 4 centimeters long.” Others also joined in Babushka and a chorus came out from the compartment-“Maria Vladimirovna, Mishka is so small, please leave him.”

But Maria Vladimirovna had made up her mind to issue the bill for Mishka and she warned Babushka that-" if you do not pay immediately then I shall have to report this incident to the Chief." Then she checked the tickets of Teotya Ludmila and the others in the compartment and moved to the next compartment.

After she left Babushka slowly removed Mishka from the table and put him along with the cage down under the table. Only a few moments ago she was showing her white mouse to all. The fat talkative man was assuring Babushka that he would do something about it. He would talk to Maria Vladimirovna and sort out this issue.

After Maria Vladimirovna checked all the tickets in the wagon number 3 she came back to Babushka to issue the bill for Mishka. Babushka was again cursing- “What stupidity? What stupidity?” Then the fat talkative man rose from his seat and took Babushka by one hand and Maria Vladimirovna by the other and he led them both to towards the end of the wagon.
I was preparing myself to go off to sleep when Babushka and fat talkative man returned to the compartment. I could not help myself asking babushka what happened at the end of the wagon. She told me that the issue has been settled between her and the ticket collector. The fat- talkative man was smiling and Mishka was sleeping below the table in his fancy home.

That evening storm: A short story

That evening storm

Its 10 am Saturday morning. Ahmad’s cell starts buzzing...soft music falls into his sleepy ears. He moves his hand, grabs the phone and presses the red button.
“So early, who the hell is buzzing in such early hours of the morning?” he thought without looking at the cell-screen for the name or the number.
Meanwhile his sleepy mind started doing some lateral thinking-“he can be my brother. He gets up early in the morning and generally calls me but I have told him not to call me so early in the morning. So he is ruled out. Who else then? May be Rima , a sure probability , I still get calls from her early in the morning since last 5 years since the time I last met her. He can’t be my father. He understands me, knows well I am not the morning person and I dislike being disturbed too early in the morning.”

The cell buzzed again waking him up from his half- sleepy state. He decided to tell the person on the line not to bother him in such early hours. He pushed the green button this time without looking at the screen, brought the phone close to his left ear. A soft British accented sweet voice sang to him-“hi, good morning Ahmad, this is Kamini here. Sorry to disturb you at this moment. I was wondering if we could meet over a cup of coffee at Mocha today evening if it’s convenient for you. I want to discuss the book I am writing and just spend some time together.” He had not spoken a single word yet perhaps had got lost in the flow of her soft, sensuous melodious voice or in the memories of this eye fluttering damsel whom he had met years back in college.
She sang again-“are you still there baby?” This brought him to the moment zero. He answered still sleepy –“I’ll let you know in an hour or so.” He squeezed the side-pillow and tried to sleep once more with the soft soothing melody playing in his mind bringing back the memories of a bygone time.

College brings all kind of people together- “ugly-beautiful, smart-dumb, sharp-dull, confused-confident and many others as many as the number of the people, each with one’s own idiosyncrasies. Kamini had hers too. She was gorgeous and an instant-killer with a no-nonsense attitude. Ahmad had fallen prey to this beautiful hunter when he had just crossed her shadow one beautiful moon-lit night while dancing at the annual College festival. Not a word had been spoken, only four eyes had met for a while and parted leaving him restless and wanting. He imagined himself lying with her on the beaches of Canaries and Bahamas and sea waves washing their bodies. In the dark or moon-lit nights sometimes he walked in sleep to the terrace craving to possess her. He dreamed her perfumed body dancing under the moon-light.

He had met her in his dreams many times now it was the time to meet the real Kamini at 6 pm today evening. Facing light is not easy when you have been living in darkness for years. Dreams are better than the realities because you can see what you want in dreams without getting hurt. Reality brings pain and suffering along with joy. He was in two minds. It had been years he had not met her… but that was not fully true because he occasionally met her in dark or moon-lit nights in his dreams. He wondered-“should I tell her what a great dream-maker she has been all these years or act fresh with ‘pleasure seeing you’ stiff upper lip expression or just tell her sorry I am busy.”
His tender mind questioned-“why is she interested in me?” Has she now no one else to have fun with? Has she got a hang of my dreams and how much I crave to possess her?” He found no concrete answers. All he could gather was vague assumptions and a few guesses. After all he decided to meet her but with one promise to himself-“thou shall not get laid by her.” At 12pm he gave her a buzz –“see you at six”.
He reached Mocha at six dot. She was already there sitting on the sofa with a glass of cold coffee and a hookah by her side. She was in a red skirt and a white string top. Her long hair hanged loosely on her back. She welcomed him with a smile and a tight hug. He had brought her red roses bought at the traffic light from the street kids. He clarified immediately though the color of the roses.
He said –“the red color means love but here it’s just accidental.”
She said smiling-“yes I know that”.
He started the conversation –“so what’s up these days?” and ordered a ‘heavenly mocha’ for himself.
She said offering him the hookah- “I am writing a book about life in big cities like Delhi, about parties, cocktails, orgies at the farmhouses in the suburbs etc...”
He said blowing smoke in the air-“sounds interesting”!
She further added-“it is about the life of a simple fellow from the countryside who gets caught up in the high life of a city and the interesting experiences he has with the different kind of people around.”
He said-“please tell me more about it”.
She said smiling -“wait till the book gets published. You can buy a copy.”
She asked taking a long gulp of smoke from the hookah–“what’s up with you these days”
He replied-“seeing you writing a book I too feel like writing one though I am not sure what I want to write about. Besides that I am busy with my work, books and music.”
They finished their drink and smoke and moved out to take a stroll. The place was full of young couples holding hands occasionally caressing and fondling each other, occasionally checking out the passers by. Showrooms sold the latest design of clothes, sports shoes and music. Restaurants served regional and continental cuisine. Discs were full of young crowd some dancing, some busy locking lips, some continuously groping each others bodies and Pubs full of men and women enjoying a drink in ‘happy hours’. Beauty parlors crowded with middle –aged withering women trying hard to maintain youthful looks, young ones getting their hair colored. The sun had set and clouds covered the blue sky. A sudden drizzle in the evening and cool wind was making the weather pleasant and romantic.
He asked –“what do you think about the United nations reforms?”
She replied-“I think India should have been there on high table long time back but it’s never too late. But India should get with full veto powers or it should be done away with for all members.”
She asked –“what do you think about love. Does it exist?”
He noticed a complete change of track and took some time to think about it.
He said –“love does exist and so does lust. It’s up to us what we choose. Many of us most of the time do not appreciate love because it’s not sexy and does not come from the expected places.”
Weather was getting stormy and it was time to part. He very strongly felt like holding her in his arms for an instant before saying goodbye. Four eyes met again. Time froze for a while.
She asked-“could you drop me home if you are not in hurry. It’s not far away.”
He said hesitatingly –“sure, my pleasure”
In 5 minutes car was standing in front of her place. It was a beautiful house surrounded by trees. The path was covered by the fallen leaves, wet due to the drizzling in the evening. Cold breeze was blowing and had started gathering momentum. The weather started turning stormy with thunder and lightening in the sky. No one had expected that weather will take such a sudden turn.
She told him “park the car in the garage and wait till the weather gets normal.”
He hesitated getting inside the house. He remembered the promise he had made to himself in the morning.
He said-“no thanks; I’ll wait here in the car in the garage.”
A wicked smile appeared on her face. She said-“ok, as you feel comfortable. Since you are my guest here I must bring you some drink. What would you like to have tonight- scotch, champagne, wine or vodka?”
He thought-“it’s not a bad idea to have a glass of red wine while waiting. Good for the heart”.
He said-“red wine would be great.”
In a jiffy she got scotch for herself and a glass of red wine for him in the car down in the garage. It was raining hard outside. Power supply was gone and there was a complete black out. Occasional lightening lit up the whole place for a while only to be engulfed by the pervading darkness all around.
She asked sipping her whisky-“did you ever think about me?”
He said looking into her eyes-“no never”.
She said-“then why did you come today to meet me if you had completely forgotten me.”
He kept mum gulping small sips of red wine slowly.
She asked –“are you scared of me”
He replied-“no”.
She said-“then why don’t you come up and have dinner with me till the weather gets normal.”
He smiled and looked into her eyes. Four eyes met again and his mind got filled with the flashes from those moon-lit nights which brought him so close to her. He had started losing himself.
She pulled him close. Eyes gave way to lips. The storm outside had found its way inside the garage and had entered the car. The car shook badly. Occasional lightening lit up their faces and bodies.
When the storm was over the hunger struck them both. She rang up a pizza joint for some fresh food but they refused home delivery in the storm and heavy rain. Hunger knows no reasoning; it does not understand the limitations of the outside world. It must satisfy itself no matter what happens. They ran into the kitchen, grabbed the leftover food and ate as they had not eaten in days.