A message to all my readers When I first began writing down my stories in this quiet space, it was nothing more than an open diary. A place to put memories that needed somewhere to rest, reflections gathered over a lifetime, and thoughts that felt too personal—or perhaps simply too ordinary—to share in conversation. Conventional wisdom often suggests that personal musings rarely accomplish much on the wider internet. There are no frameworks here, no quick advice, and no polished agendas. Just the raw textures of life as I have experienced it: the sudden turns, the quiet routines, the moments of doubt, and the steady work of beginning again. Recently, as a small corner quietly crossed 30,000 reads, I paused to look more closely at the numbers. What moved me was not just the milestone itself, but where those visits were coming from. While some readers join from home here in India, so many of you are reading from entirely different corners of the earth—from Singapore across the seas ...
Do you know what nice food is? Nice food is
one which is prepared by a Hindu lady with lots of love and affection. All the
emotions her thoughts are transferred via that food to you.
Now
this prepared food should be served to you by a Muslim waiter who serves you
with such vanity and delicacy.
Then
this should be eaten by an Englishman in all style. See how he drapes the
napkin on his lap then he picks up the knife and fork and eats in style and
relishes every bite in no haste.
This
is what nice food is.
That's
a story that my grandfather repeated often about NICE FOOD in our family.
Kitchen has always
been my domain and seldom have the men of household (my husband and two sons) ever
tried to cross that threshold and displace me from my highlands. Despite my
fuming and fretting of the domestic and professional overload I have not
conceded my grounds.
Ever since my
children went to Kota after their tenth standard my attempts to make them
self-reliant or more so to domesticate them to a certain extent began. Usually
my attempts were in vain for they were always pampered to the heel by the
entire clan. Whatever I could say fell over deaf ears with 'Chill Ma Chill'. That
chilled me to my levels of insolence.
Over the years that
followed I gave in and stayed away from the topic, they established themselves
to luxuries, had a maid to cook, to sweep, to iron, to buy grocery etc. etc. This
was not available to me yet, despite working for over two decades.
And then out of the
blue came Corona and the world quarantined itself with lockdown. All luxuries
evaporated and the work from home and work for home started. All maids and the
likes of Zomato and Swiggy socially distanced themselves.
I was Whatsapped this image with
tick the appropriate
Usable/not
This was followed by a long
consultant discourse with complete instructions about leafy greens storage.
That was the last I heard of matters of cooking and I was left alone for my
dental consultations.
Soon I discovered You tube and
Google were the panacea.
Our family group on Whatsapp was
being bombarded with the images of the daily meals prepared and it was amazing
to see that all experiments did not go awry.
Egg rolls to beat the hunger, tremendous for
primary schoolers in cooking. That is the power of human potential. Kneading
the flour, rolling it and shallow frying it is certainly commendable.
What if the microwavable plate
turned wobbly at least paneer tikka was well marinated and the taste and look
was far from being a dampener. Who would mind being invited over for the
dinner? This even settled the age old dispute between me and my son to learn
cooking.
He may have had limited resources
and gadgets in the temporary kitchen but the spirit to prove his newly
founded culinary skills is indomitable
Like most mothers of this generation
I am being entertained by images of dishes he is dishing out after work hours.
I have a rival in that department,
not my daughter or daughter in law but my very own son.
HAPPY COOKING SON
.
Mouth watering!
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