The Joy of Cooking

Grad school has been unrelenting with waves of classes, assignments, and exams grinding away all available free time and happiness. The pandemic was not helpful. Amidst all this if there’s one thing I find great joy in it is in cooking.

Cooking has been a great way to de-stress. A balm to my overworked mind. Ever since I stepped foot in the US, I have had to cook all my meals — something I had never done before but yet found quite natural once begun. There is nothing that really nourishes my mind and uplifts my mood as much as some hot, freshly self-cooked meals. I delight myself with delicious Indian meals. Dosas, curries, chutneys — nothing is off the menu and I am able to meet all my culinary desires. Yet it wasn’t always so easy. I began cooking less than six years ago.

It was October of 2015 when my mom lay in her deathbed. She had 3 months to live. Even in these despondent moments, she worried about her children. About leaving behind two sons who were utterly incapable of caring for and feeding themselves. As she pondered on what was a tragically short life and the legacy she would leave behind, she decided it wasn’t too late. Mustering up whatever little strength she possessed, she dragged me to the kitchen and taught me how to cook. A simple Indian meal. She must have done this for two weeks until her strength faded. Yet she had done her part. She was now content leaving behind children who she was now sure would be able to fend for themselves.

Today as I experiment with Ragi dosas, Haleem, and Mutton Tikka, I keep her in my memory. Every meal is sweet comfort to my soul and a tribute to my mother and her endless love for her children.