Some Food, More Love, Mild Hate

As I reflect over this festive period, I realise that through all of my life’s relationships — I’ve always felt more understood through the language of food. And I’ve compiled a brief list of anecdotes, thoughts, musings and mini-episodes surrounding food - how we love and how we hate.

• During my late teens, I was equally impressed and intimidated by Mummy’s, Kaki’s and Dadi’s culinary prowess. I’d watch them expertly cook multiple dishes at a time, from scratch. I’d wonder aloud, “How will I ever learn how to cook all of this? Will I even want to? Cooking looks like a lot of thankless work.”
• Dadi made the best sabudana khichdi I have ever had (or maybe I am biassed). Hers was just the correct consistency, never too soggy, never too oily, never too spicy, always balanced, it was just perfect. Dadi passed away a few years ago and I have been on a futile quest since to find a sabudana khichdi that would taste just like hers.
• My brother, who is far away, calls Mummy and over a two-hour long video call he replicates the recipe step-by-step while Mummy and Kaki diligently and patiently recite it. Something so endearing about cooking over a video call with a loved one helping out with instructions.
• My friend who resides in the continent across the globe, usually calls when she is preparing her lunch and the conversation always involves some nuance in a recipe that she is cooking, a little rant about the chores post cooking, and a list of all the places we will eat at when she visits India.
• Growing up, my brothers and I split just about everything equally. We are guilty of splitting a popcorn tub, kernel by kernel into four equal parts. Now years later when they are abroad, I cannot even finish a popcorn packet by myself. Somehow, it doesn’t taste as good without them around.
• Every time the dinner menu in my house is a classic Bhakri-Shaak, I diligently call my childhood friend to ask if the dinner at her place is any better and self-invite myself over.
• I am convinced a lot of problems can be overcome after having a nice cup of chai.
• Whenever my friend visits from Germany, I go to her place for a stay over and her mother cooks South Indian appams for me with the tastiest peanut chutney. My friend doesn’t even like this particular dish but Aunty always lovingly makes it because I LOVE IT. Pyaar!
• Few things rile me up as much as the huddling of women in the kitchen during extended family dinners and the unreasonable enthusiasm of women to serve food to everyone. It riles me further when I get snide comments from aunts about how I should participate and learn to serve food as well. God bless!
• There is a soft spot in my heart for the people who offer to serve the person beside them while filling their plates from the centre dish at a restaurant. A softer spot for the people who pour water for everyone around them at the table, simply because they were pouring a glass for themselves.
• Nani despite her diabetes would sneakily eat sweets at the dinner table. On being reprimanded by me, she defended herself by saying - "I have a limited life now, let me enjoy it with good food." And I have been unable to restrict her since that statement!
• It always warms my heart and fills my stomach to dine with friends who eat slowly, quietly and to their heart’s content, never rushed, never too much, just happily eating. True Foodies!
• A childhood friend of mine always insists on eating a bite from my plate, even today. We could be at a restaurant, a local joint, a bar, in transit or even at her own wedding, she has to nibble from my plate. A habit I find endearing and exasperating in the same breath.
• Indian food was what bonded me with my flatmates in Oxford. Six girls with six different nationalities surprisingly bonded in our common room, over a few too many cups of chai, coffee and tasty masala food!

• My brother never liked dahi (curd), no matter how many times he tried. However, he loves lassi (churned curd) and can guzzle litres of it. A fact that baffles me.
• Indian food was what bonded me with my flatmates in Oxford. Six girls with six different nationalities surprisingly bonded in our common room, over a few too many cups of chai, coffee and tasty masala food!
• I was 4 when Mummy taught me that you can make a wish on a fallen eyelash and blow it away. I vividly remember that day I wished for an Orange Candy (it was my favourite ice cream, still is). And lo and behold, that evening Dada came home with two Orange Candies. What sorcery! And that’s it, I guess, post that day, I still (naively) believe that wishes made upon fallen eyelashes might come true ;)

• I hate palak (spinach) with a vengeance. And in order to make sure I consume enough green leafy vegetables, I have on odd occasions added palak to my Maggi. Life is all about balance.
• My brothers can now cook far better than me and every time a rhetoric is asked to me at a social gathering whether I am ashamed or worried that I cannot cook as proficiently as them - try brothers retort, “She doesn’t need to cook as well since we already can!”
• Coming back home post a trip, Mummy always hugs me and immediately after offers, “Should I make some chai for you?” I am convinced making chai for someone is akin to saying - I love you, I miss you, I am there for you!

That’s it for this one, hope you enjoyed it and if this made you think of any anecdotes from your experiences feel free to share them, you know where to find me.

Until next time, let's make some chai for one another?

This time around, I’d like to share some other things instead of a song:

It feels so surreal, a genocide is taking place in one part of the world and life goes on in the other parts as if nothing is happening.

How heartbreaking, how absurd the reality we live in.

I have been following The Afghan, a social media page that helped me understand and be heartbroken by the ground reality of the Palestine-Israel War. Unfortunately, the account had a suspension warning on Instagram and the page has now limited its reporting to only the voice of Afghanis. However, I’d still urge you to check it out.

And this particular anecdote that I came across, has helped me feel less helpless and numb -

A man stood outside the white house with a single protest candle every night during the Vietnam war. Once a reporter asked him, "Do you really think you are going to change the policies of this country by standing out here alone at night in front of the White House with a candle?" A.J. Muste replied softly: "Oh I don't do this to change the country. I do this so the country won't change me. I will not allow the steady maddening onslaught of insanity to wear down my humanity. I will keep knowing the truth and telling the truth. I will do my small part- every damn day- to stay human, to stay awake and tender- so the world does not wear away my humanity.”

I pray may we never lose our faith in humanity.

Before you go, enjoy some favourites from my gallery!

Until the next one may there be peace!
Krupa 🌺