By Sara Pandey
The smell of aate ka halwa pierces my nose. It is sweet and smells like home. Every birthday I step
out of my room in the morning and walk into the hallway. I already know that the kitchen will be
occupied by my frenzied mother, sweating from the heat and holding that recipe book she is
reading from. The halwa that follows will be the perfect amount to split between two. She packs it
into a katori that is then turned upside down on a plate and tapped until it slowly slips off, forming
a small dome shaped structure. Full of ghee and the right amount of crumbly, it has graced me and
other family members on the morning of their birthdays.
My mother hates cooking. A lifetime of witnessing her own mother be so bound by it, spending
hours on end cooking meals, cleaning dishes and prepping for the next snack that the household
wants is probably why she finds it a harrowing space. She cannot function in that enclosed part of
the house; noisy, dirty and hot. It is known notoriously that when her mother didn’t want her
marrying into my father’s family she squealed to the sasuraal that she had never entered a kitchen
in her life. “Koi na, Vivek ko aata hai” (It’s okay, Vivek knows how to), said her mother-in-law. And
since then she hasn’t stepped into a kitchen unless absolutely required.
It is the most surprising thing then, that as much as she hates the kitchen, my mother loves food.
She got this from my father, who during the duration of their courtship, made her an adventurous
eater. He has mysterious, magical powers surrounding food. A semi decent cook if he tries, but
more importantly, a man who will enter a new city and within an hour of driving around will find
for you the best eating spots in town. He single handedly converted her from a regular
butter-chicken-naan orderer to someone who is willing to try a new, exciting dish if you do it with
her.
I think my favourite person to share a meal with is my mother. Every flavour delighted at, every
texture pointed out, every finger and plate licked clean. If you listen in on us eating a good meal
together at the dining table, you’ll hear “mmmm”, “woww”, and “wahhh” at regular intervals. At
home, we have to have at least two out of the three meals together. This will always end up being
daal, chaaval, sabji and chapati, the basic component of a North Indian meal and yet we will
always say a few words about the yellow-ness of the daal or just how spicy the sabji is that day. Our
schedules line up just in time for lunch and dinner. It is tradition for us to spend this meal,
watching a show or a movie, combining my two favourite activities to do with someone close. She
has no clue how a dish is cooked or what the process of it being made is. But she’s the first to
recognise a good meal and appreciate it so viscerally. It is incredibly rare to see a woman enjoy food
loudly. The shame surrounding women eating more than a slice of pizza is imprinted in so many of
my friend’s minds. From movies and shows but also within homes and families – a girl must
maintain her “figure” lest she become too “healthy”. But to eat a meal with my mother is to
experience pleasure unabashedly and guilt free.
If anyone understands as much as I do, the importance of good food, it is her. A meal can change
your mood entirely. It is often the difference between a good day and a bad day. Food – sharing,
cooking, indulging can fix relationships and break others. Some people have to fight for it, some die
trying.
I know when my mother wakes up the morning of our birthdays she probably dreads the hour of
toiling a halwa will take. It is a simple enough recipe for her to follow and she tries to get it done
with as soon as she can. But every year, standing in that hallway, I remember that much like a good
meal, love is found in the simplest of places.
Sara Pandey is a recent undergraduate of English Literature and Media Studies from Ashoka University, Delhi. She loves reading, eating and writing about most things food and love. If she had to get a tattoo, it would be a fried egg. You can find more of her work (and films on food) over on @sara.pandeyy on Instagram.
Hot Pot Magazine 