I was dining at my favorite Sri Lankan restaurant — Hoppers — in London. It is named after this delicious Sri Lankan / South Indian bread which also goes by ‘appam’.

The server came by to do a last call. The kitchen was closing for the night. I ordered a second hopper.

Twenty minutes later, the couple dining next to me called the server over.

“Can I get another hopper?”, asked the man.

“The kitchen is closed, sir. I won’t be able to do this.”

“Oh, really? Just one hopper?” the man asked.

“Sorry, sir. The kitchen is closed now.”

“What about some rice, to go with my dish here. They must have some rice?” the man inquired, with hope.

“No, I am afraid, no rice too.”

That was the end of the dialogue.

“What a silly man! He knew they were doing a last call twenty minutes ago. He could have easily looked ahead and realized he would need another hopper like I did!”, I thought to myself. “Now he’s regretting it.”

A minute later, I start to feel bad about passing judgment like that. “Hitendra, there are times when you don’t pay attention to certain details. Who knows…perhaps he was immersed in a deep conversation with his partner on some topic when the server made the last call.”

Another minute goes by. I notice my second hopper, warm and fresh, lying on the side plate. “C’mon Hitendra. Offer him half your hopper,” my heart said.

But my mind pushed back. “Nah! You deserve all of it. You’ve worked so hard today. You planned it, you ordered it, now let’s eat it. That’s his problem, not having a hopper.”

My heart won.

I knocked on his shoulder and as he turned toward me, I pointed to the hopper. “Why don’t you have this, my friend. I haven’t touched it.” As I started to speak, I began to find it increasingly hard to only offer him half the hopper — so I had to go the whole way.

“No, no! Thank you, that’s fine” he responded, breaking into a smile.

 “It’s OK, it’s my pleasure. It’s for you — please enjoy it.”, I said.

“No, thank you! Please, go ahead with it — it’s yours.” He replied.

And there the dialogue ended. I ate the second hopper, and it was everything a hopper should be. I had done what my mother would have wished for me to do and I didn’t even have to sacrifice my hopper. What could be a more ideal ending?

The meal came to an end, and I asked the server to bring me the check.

“Sir, the couple next to you, they left a few minutes ago. That man already paid for your dinner.”

He was supposed to be the silly one, and me, the kind one. But in that moment I realized the opposite was true.

I walked away sheepish, grateful, elevated.

If you meet the couple, give them a big hug from me.

And always share your hopper.

Warmly,
Hitendra

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