The children huddled behind the dumpster, dirty, shirtless, hungry. It was not permitted. The boys had been beaten for it before, but it was too hard to resist. The trail of tomorrow’s sauces wafted from the window above. Cinnamon, cloves, mustard seed, anise, cardamon. Deep complex, carefully crafted blends. It teased their senses, stomachs groaning in anticipation.
The back door swung open. A boy dragged two swollen rubbish bags. Lifting the heavy plastic lid, he swung the bags one by one into the dumpster, letting the lid slam shut as he turned back inside.
Waiting just long enough, the boys scrambled from their shelter. Climbing with practiced efficiency, inside the dumpster, they ripped open the bags, snatching hungrily at scraps of chapati, idly, gravy and rice. Gravy and rice! Exquisite gravy and rice.