One constable who prepares tea in our office had put up a leave application. Due to staff crunch and the unavailability of a suitable substitute to take up his duties of preparing tea for everyone, we kept dilly-dallying with his request. But yesterday, he came and stood in front of my senior and once again earnestly requested leave.
My senior, a kind-hearted and wise person, was very much in favour of sanctioning his leave. But before recommending it, he jovially told the constable, “First, make two good cups of tea for us!”
Very enthusiastically, the constable rushed to prepare the tea and returned with two steaming cups along with an assortment of biscuit packets arranged neatly on a tray. There were about four or five different varieties—some fancy cookie types. But amidst them sat a humble, small packet of Parle-G.
Without thinking, my hand stretched out automatically and picked up the Parle-G. As I opened the packet, I noticed a smile on my senior’s face. Before he could comment, I hastily said, “I love Parle-G! Though it’s cheap, its affordability doesn’t take away from its unique taste and quality.”
I went on, half-jokingly but half-defensive. “My family and friends tease me for loving this ‘cheap’ biscuit. My elder brother buys several packets of Parle-G to feed stray dogs—so to them, it’s ‘dog biscuit’! But for me, it’s the ultimate comfort food. My day starts with tea and Parle-G. It brings back memories of childhood, when biscuit options were limited and Parle-G was the undisputed favorite.”
I don’t know why I was trying to justify my choice to him—perhaps somewhere I feared he might think I was ‘classless.’
He gave another smile, softer this time, and very simply said, “This is a life-saving biscuit.”
I was stunned. “What are you saying, Sir? How can a biscuit save lives?”
He nodded gently, and said, “Yes, Madam. It did. Hundreds of lives, in fact. Let me explain.”
He leaned back, speaking with quiet intensity.
“Do you remember the COVID-19 lockdown days? When the entire world shut down? Even our ever-bustling country, India—with the second highest population in the world—was brought to a standstill.”
“They say India lives in its villages. But the pandemic showed us that a large portion of the country’s poor actually lived in our metropolitan cities—especially Mumbai, with its incredible job opportunities. There’s a popular saying here: ‘One can wake up hungry in Mumbai, but won’t go to bed hungry.’ The city always finds a way to feed you. But during those dreadful months, even this USP of Mumbai failed.”
“With no work, no wages, and no way to survive, thousands of poor workers decided to return to their native villages. But how could they? There were no buses, no trains—no affordable means of transport. Yet, with determination stitched into their bones, they began walking. Yes, walking—some over 2,000 kilometers. Small children hoisted on shoulders, women balancing bundles on their heads, entire families crossing state after state on foot.”
“The media called them ‘migrants.’ We watched their heartbreaking journey unfold on our screens. But what kept them going—besides sheer willpower—was water and Parle-G. These glucose biscuits became their only source of energy. Many kind-hearted people stood by highways, distributing water packets and Parle-G. People ate just two or three biscuits a day, conserving them for the unknown number of days ahead. They didn’t know when they’d get to eat again.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
I sat silently, humbled. As I listened, the biscuit in my hand took on a new shape—no longer just a nostalgic indulgence, but a symbol of resilience. The story my senior shared changed something inside me.
This incident happened just yesterday, but it has already changed the way I see things. The image of this underestimated biscuit has been elevated manifold in my mind.
In the future, when I find myself at a public gathering or a get-together, and a tray of assorted biscuits is passed around, I wouldn’t hesitate or feel embarrassed to pick up a pack of Parle-G. I’ll do so with quiet pride—knowing that it’s not just a biscuit. It’s a piece of my childhood, and for many, it was a lifeline in their darkest hour.
Thank you, Parle-G. ❤️