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A passion rekindled
Till recent times, I considered it as a chore. It could be how I saw it being used to keep my predecessors in places engaged and thus not in the front yard, where important decisions were made. If I was left alone to do it, I used to fume inside and even spit out some unpleasant words if someone crossed my path. My jaws used to be clenched, and it depicted a push against oppression. It could describe the unhappiness of being in a place where I do not like to be or simply doing something I don’t enjoy. So, the products always used to have something extra or, most times, undone; as always, there needed to be more patience.
Prehistorically, we observed specific roles just by considering the physical attributes. In the modern world, we are primarily in a place where anyone can do anything. So often, it used to be a general grouse as to why I should be the one doing it, when in fact, I am the one who always needs variety in it as well. People at home were usually happy to adjust to anything or even nothing sometimes.
Something switched in me when I was left alone in a metropolitan city to do it myself. I rediscovered certain aspects of myself, including being interested in this. I was left to cook most of my meals, which also involved sourcing stuff and finding suitable vessels in an Airbnb to cook them the Indian way. But that experience was a revelation in itself. My love for the art of…
