₹40 Momos or ₹400 Coffees?

I changed schools in 11th grade, and somehow changing schools changed my perspective of Gurgaon.

Before that, my friends and I had our own little routine. Every few weeks, we would meet at places like The Big Tree, 32nd Avenue, or Hamoni Cafe. We would order an unnecessarily expensive coffee and spend the next two hours updating each other on the previous weeks gossip. Who was dating whom, who had fought with whom, who had suddenly started talking to someone new. The coffee was cold and overpriced, but the steaming hot gossip made up for it.

Then I changed schools.

My new friends introduced me to a Gurgaon that I always knew existed but had never really been a part of. A Gurgaon that didn't need aesthetic interiors, fairy lights or a menu with words I couldn't pronounce.

Right after school, they would drag me to some roadside stall for pani puris or momos. We would stand around the stall asking the vendor to make the pani puris spicier. After that came chai at some random tapri, usually served in a tiny glass, while we sat on whatever plastic chairs were available.

And somewhere along the way, I realised just how much money I had been wasting. For the price of one fancy coffee, I could eat five plates of momos. Five. But the funny thing is, it was never really about the coffee.

It was about the shrieking laughter that made everyone at the next table stare at us. It was about the whispered secrets we weren't supposed to repeat. It was about staying out for an extra half hour because nobody wanted to be the first person to say, "Okay, let's go home."

I think that's when I realised that Gurgaon has two very different personalities, and somehow, I got lucky enough to experience both.

Now, whenever I go back to my hometown, my wallet cries a little more.

I save money for the things that somehow taste better when they're cheap: ₹40 momos, kathi rolls, golgappas and chai from a tapri. I save it for the arguments over who gets the last momo.

And then, in the evening, I'll meet my day one friends and we'll go to The Big Chill, order chicken ravioli and banoffee pie, and continue the gossip exactly where we left off.

Maybe that's what growing up in Gurgaon has taught me. You don't have to choose between the glass towers and the roadside stalls. Between overpriced coffees and ₹40 momos. Between fancy dinners and chai in a plastic cup.

Sometimes, you just need both. Because at the end of the day, it's never really about what you're eating.

It's about who you're eating it with.

-Garima