German Salad

 

My dear Annesha,

I’m sorry.
You might ask, “Why now?”
You mentioned the German salad episode, and it took me back—eight years ago, maybe more.

I remember conducting a theatre workshop at school. Being untrained in theatre myself, I had to think of creative ways to keep you all engaged for ten whole days. So, I planned a group activity—each team would bring and present a food item. I think there were about eight groups, five members each. Some brought bhel puri, others corn salad, some macaroni… I forget the rest, but I do remember your group. You brought what you called a “German Salad.”

The name was intriguing. We were all curious.
And what was it? Boiled potatoes drenched in mustard sauce.
Simple. Bold. Unique.
I personally loved it.

But the others burst out laughing. I remember Jashan Singh Brar laughing the hardest. Of course—your classic frenemy.

And then you burst into tears.

Suddenly no one knew what to do.
I stepped in. Scolded everyone—especially Jashan. I reminded them: “Don’t laugh at others. Respect differences.” I made them apologise. And I thought that was that.

But today, I realise—I failed you.
Not because I didn’t protect you. But because I overprotected you.

I should have told you to stand by your German salad.
Let them laugh. Let it seem odd.
It was your imaginative presentation, and that mattered.
I should have taught you how to own your weirdness, your choices. To say,
“This is me. Take it or leave it.”
Instead, I silenced the laughter—when what you really needed was the strength to rise above it.

Today, as I see you stand up for what you believe in—resigning from your dream corporate job, walking away from what others call “success”—I see you have finally owned your German salad.

The world may or may not understand it.
But you’ve become strong enough to carry it with pride.

Bless you.