The Aroma...
To people who don't know me, it might sound strange and even utmost funny. But there is a small tale to it. I had taken an oath- "I will never master the art of cooking for I shall outsource the non core function." I never was inclined to learn it. The feminist in me always asked me to read the economist, travel, strike a good conversation with smart people, paragliding- in short just anything in the world other than cooking.
People say that a MBA degree is like a spiritual journey. You find out more about yourself than business at the end of it. There was and always a streak in me which begs me to be independent. I have never liked knocking on another person's door seeking help if I could do it myself. Some call it ego, I call it -taking care of myself. I am a puzzling concoction of of things that are in opposite ends. My mind begs me to take care of myself, heart longs for a loving soul near me. Am n't I a mixed bunch of things?
The combination of my wrongly guided feminist ideas and luck of having lived with some of the best souls on earth, I never had the need to cook. But luck too runs out. Hence with my newly embraced philosophy of independence and a deep sigh I was about to do something I have managed to push away for 22 years in my life and my deepest dread- cooking.
It's been ten days since that moment when I started at onions and thought of all the raucous that I made when my grand mother used to cut the same. Post a lip smacking upma that I made for dinner today, I am happy that I took that first bold step.
Frankly, it is a delightful activity. It makes you feel like an artist. Your mixing all these different colours and textures to make this wonderful and sinfully tasty food. It was tonight as I stirred the dish that I realised how badly mixed up I was. Feminism is not shunning the so called woman's work, but embracing all the work you must do from cooking to bike riding with pride and sense of purpose.
With the aroma of Rava upma and lemon pickle in my hands, all I want to say it: "It's ok to be mixed up at times and shun things without a thought. We all do it at certain points in our life. My only request is that we give it a shot. For I discovered the there is no smell in this world that can beat the smell of hot steaming aval upma (Poha for the Non- Tamilians) when your stomach is begging for food."
I am not great at the art yet but I sure have started learning and respecting it for what it is. I still remember what my mother said when I asked her help to gather all things that I need to cook (I mean ingredients not courage). She discouraged me and asked me to go to a restaurant instead for it is easier. May be I didnt want easier. May be I wanted to become this artist who could at the wave of a hand make food that kindles one to salivate and smell that invites everyone to dine. I was in love with food without knowing its origins. It felt more like a crush. Now, post my efforts to cook, I feel like I am this honest committed girlfriend of this simple yet charming skill.
Even as I type this, my brain is planning what to make for breakfast tomorrow. Time changes people. This a a change for the better. Still lingering in aroma of that upma. :)
FYI its roti in Sabji :P
FYI its bread upma :D
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