5 AM. Alarm goes off.
Neha Tyagi is already awake, rolling kathi rolls and slicing finger sandwiches.
Not because her 13-year-old loves them.
Because his classmates called his roti-sabzi "boring."
For three days straight, his tiffin had come home untouched.
On day three, he snapped: "If you want me to eat it, stop packing boring food."
The real reason? The moment he opened his box, the smell of achaar filled the classroom.
Kids went "ewww." "yuck."
He stopped opening the box.
Across India, parents are quietly losing a war they didn't sign up for.
The enemy? Pack-lunch-with-me reels. Pinterest-perfect bento boxes. And one mom in the class WhatsApp group who sends sushi.
One kid gets quinoa rolls.
Another brings dim sums.
Suddenly, dhokla is cringe.
Paratha is cringe.
Jam sandwich? Ancient history.
10-year-old Hridhaan in Delhi asked his mom:
"Mumma, why don't I get pasta in cute boxes like my friends?"
Nutritionist Kavita Devgan puts it bluntly: "Nutrition is not a performance."
But social media disagrees. And parents are paying for it. Literally.
Here's what a "cute tiffin" actually costs a family every month:
Total damage? An extra ₹3,000 to ₹8,000 every month.
Plus 20-30 minutes of extra prep. Every. Single. Morning.
Here's the part that stings.
Those Instagram-worthy tiffins? Often worse for the kid.
Because when a mom is packing six tiffins before sunrise, she isn't whipping up hummus from scratch.
She's reaching for the jar. The packet. The processed thing.
Refined flour. Sugary spreads. Processed meats. Preservatives.
All wrapped in a pastel silicone box with a smiley note.
Looks great. Feeds the algorithm. Not the child.
Devgan's reminder: rajma-chawal, idli-sambar, paneer paratha, chilla — these already tick every box a growing kid needs.
Steady energy. Protein. Fibre. Healthy fats.
Gurugram mom Kanika Mittal found her hack: sneak sattu into cutlets. Kids don't notice. Protein sorted. Zero guilt.
She also drops sticky notes with cute messages inside the dabba. Costs nothing. Works harder than sushi.
Some days, the tiffin will be Pinterest-worthy.
Most days, it just needs to be eaten.
Don't let a classroom of 10-year-olds and a viral reel decide your grocery bill.
Or your sleep.
That's all for now!
