My mother - maa or mumma, as I call her - is my best friend. Despite being a strict mother at times, her love for me gets portrayed in every little act of hers. Now I have never been a spoilt kid; I was taught about the value of things from an early age and the dignity of earning something rather than getting it on demand. But there’s one thing that I received abundantly and without any demand. While other kids are usually spoilt with a shower of toys and fancy stuff, I have been lucky enough to be spoilt by good food.
I have always been a chubby kid throughout my childhood and some part into my adulthood too until recently when I realised the importance of a healthy and fit body. My childhood memories are filled with the daily box full of love from maa’s kitchen comprising of my favourite food items- the ultimate source of gaining chubbiness. During school, I used to wait for the tiffin break quite eagerly because I knew there would be a yummy treat inside. I loved my tiffin so much so that I was scared to share it with anyone. So while everyone in class bonded over sharing their tiffin, I happily munched on my own. Gulping it down at a speed that would choke me sometimes, only to be pacified with some water. I remember once I made a deal with a friend whose mother cooked a type of chowmein that I liked and my friend liked my butter-sugared sandwiches as she was restricted from having butter. So that was the only time I shared my tiffin. And I chuckled to myself thinking “Lucky that I didn’t have to share the other delicious stuff with her”.
As a kid, I never fully understood the joy of eating outside in a restaurant. For most occasions, we would have a feast at home prepared by maa. Papa would carefully cajole us into believing that outside food can be harmful and homemade food is hygienic and tasty and we would happily enjoy a three-course meal on every birthday or anniversary. In fact each year our birthdays used to be a tiring day for my mother as she would start the preparations early in the day and come up with a variety of dishes for my friends and family. And now as I leave from home every time, my luggage is half-filled with food boxes with various items and among them some favourites for my friends too. Many a times this has left me perplexed at the airport on how to deal with an exceeded baggage capacity.
The saga of delicious food and maa has intrigued me forever until the time I went to hostel. Those four years my friends could only wonder why I could never finish my plate at hostel. Though unsuccessful, they gave me various tips on how to gulp down hostel food. Little did they know how much I craved for “maa ke haath ka khana”. That was the time that I not only understood the significance of homemade food but also the love, care, patience, and the hard work that she undergoes to prepare each dish. After that, I never complained anything about food and once again happily munched on to whatever she cooked. Many a times I have kissed her hands after tasting a meal to show her my appreciation and amazement at how she could cook such magic. I knew that gave her immense happiness. Also, I would wash some extra utensils that day just to show my appreciation for her.
Whenever I am home, I help maa in the kitchen but I never dare to touch a dish that she is preparing. I am scared my hands would spoil the effort she has put into preparing the dish. We – my father, me, and my sister- have been thoroughly spoilt by good food so much so that if we ever have to go through “not so good tasting” food for some meals at home, our taste buds cry out in pain and beg for mercy. Papa surely is a victim of that sometimes and we know he finds it unbearable. Often times our discussions over a meal span over discussing what’s cooking in the next meal. So much for a foodie family. Guess this makes me a foodie person but I eat with care and some restrictions. My mother always tells me, “Eat little quantities of good food for longer rather than eating huge quantities for a short time”. I have always tried to abide by this golden rule.
I had never tried cooking a full meal at home and I was not even sure if I could cook one. Though the good cooking genes run in the maternal side of my family. Starting from my great grandmother to my grandmother to my mother and her siblings to my cousins, while the paternal side of my family justify to be called keen eaters. I wondered if I could ever justify my maternal family’s genes or forever remain the faithful inheritor of my paternal genes. As a child, I used to say that I would never like to cook and I wouldn’t have to learn cooking because I would earn so well that I would never have to cook for myself. I would always order from outside or eat at a restaurant for every meal. But reality knows it better! So when the push came to shove I picked up the utensils and some raw materials and tried my hand at pacifying my hunger. Little by little I got the hang of cooking stuff to my perfect taste and I grew to love it. Hence proving my thoughts wrong. I would try to replicate the way maa cooks. Sometimes it doesn’t turn out as I wished it, and sometimes it tastes better than I expected it to be. And then one day, the chicken curry that I cooked had a close resemblance in looks, smells, and taste to the chicken curry maa cooks. I was over the moon. Far away from home, I could only show her the picture of the dish I created. She was happy to see my happiness. Perhaps I indeed inherit the cooking genes from my mother. But the most unexpected compliment that I got for my dish was when my father told my mother, “Looks like your daughter can give you a competition in cooking now”. I am nowhere near the competition but the feeling of satisfaction of trying to replicate a taste I cherish has been the most rewarding experience for me. Now that I am not home and each day that she cooks a yummy cake, a snack, a pizza, or anything new, I know how much she misses me. All she can do now is send me a picture of it and tell me how happily my sister is munching at it.
I have been watching cooking shows and my mother’s cooking for so many years now. I can say I know most ingredients that go into a dish and the way it is cooked. But while trying to cook, I learnt something furthermore valuable. To know something by watching or learning is not complete until you get your hands dirty with it. To know the exact timing of when the rice boils, the perfect time to put the tadka and the masala, the right amount of ingredients, and the patience to stand there and cook for hours is a real art. It is an art that goes unappreciated. A mother’s love and soul goes into preparing a dish for her kid each and every day. And sometimes we fail to recognise that hard work and treat it like a chore. I believe it should be every day that we should pray for and thank the hands that prepare the food.
Maa, you know how much I love the way you shower me with your love in the dishes you make for me. And each day that I try to cook for myself, I can only wonder about the troubles you go through to serve me with the best despite all hardships. So next time when I am home, I would give you a day off from the kitchen and hope to shower you with my love in the form of the dishes that I can cook. I remember you did not like the tea I once prepared while papa always loved it. But I hope that after tasting my dishes now you won't forbid me from entering your kitchen!!
