Skip to main content

Growing up...

This is something I wrote for a website called Chillibreeze. Sometimes, you write from the heart. This brought back many, many memories.

___________________________________

I grew up in a house with two kitchens – a big one where my mother and our long-time maid Sowmini, made breakfast and dinner, and a little one where the maid cooked our afternoon staple of rice on a fire of wood shingles.

Even as a small girl, it was the smoke-filled, soot-encrusted ‘rice’ kitchen I really loved. For, that was where Sowmini would roast cashew nuts. She would throw the nuts on the logs and tell the eager brown-faced girl near her to wait patiently. Soon enough, I would hear a telltale hiss, a sign that the nut oil had seeped into the wood. A few more minutes of mouthwatering anticipation and I would have a handful of coarsely blackened cashew nuts to carefully crack open and crunch on.

Cooking with wood comes naturally to Sowmini because that is everyday reality for her. My family is not rich. We have always gotten by more or less comfortably. But our maid is one of a faceless category that has its life and lifestyle analysed threadbare in reports on why the poor remain poor. These reports will tell you that our maid, along with two billion other people around the world “rely on wood and charcoal for cooking fuel.”

Sowmini is also a minuscule decimal point in another category – the 60 per cent of India’s rural population, which according to one study, uses up some 200 million tons of biomass a year cooking “on primitive woodstoves.” She and people like her now have non government organizations (NGOs) telling them their wood fires eat into our diminishing resources and worse, adds to climate change.

So, she and the nameless others are asked to change their lifestyle and instead, opt for clean, smoke-free and environment-friendly solar cookers. The NGO that says this is ready to provide the cookers too. Another NGO says forget the cookers, hybrid wood-gas cooking stoves are better than anything else by far.

Actually, I think Sowmini would be open to these ideas. She studied up to the second grade, but has a brain that works faster than an Intel Pentium 4. She is 50-plus but passes for 30 because she eats healthy – she cannot afford junk food, and walks a lot or takes the bus. Her home is well ventilated because for a long time, it only had a thatched roof and no doors.

The NGOs that want our Sowminis to change are, however, silent on the newest fashion in the richer world: wood fires in up market restaurants. Foodies across the globe now expound lengthily on this trend and gush unceasingly on the myriad flavours the wood fires impart to food.

Sowmini has never been to such restaurants. Neither have I and probably never will. Because no matter how delightful the ambiance, or how wonderfully ‘hot’ the haute cuisine, the experience will probably pall beside that half-remembered joy of eating the blackened cashews a faceless woman lovingly roasted on a wood fire for a little girl, many years ago.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hooked

I think I'm hooked. Totally and absolutely Booked. I've got it real bad And that's kinda sad. Shopping was never my thing It didn't give me a zing. Problem is, this is so easy Sounds darn cheesy. But when I spot a deal Half-price, what a steal! It's like I'm manic Some kind of panic. No time to ponder, or reflect Here goes nothing, what the heck! First I click on buy Then I go, oh my! For I've done it again Seen a sale, felt the pain Of being afflicted Totally addicted To shopping online Come rain or shine. So yeah, I'm hooked, Absolutely booked. I don't know what to do. How about you? ______________________

My other uterus

Read the other day about an American woman who had twins. Nothing exceptional in that, except that she has a condition called uterus didelphys, a rare congenital phenomenon where the uterus comprises not one, but two cavities or two separate uteruses. Basically, the babies grew in the two uterii. Okay so what, you think. Well, I have two uteruses (or uterii, or whatever), too. And I just had a baby. My baby grew in my right uterus, so the left one was empty. But it kinda made way as the right one expanded over a period of nine months. So did my stomach stick out on one side? Nope. It looked like every other pregnant woman's tummy. It was only different on the inside. This uterus didelphys is a tricky thing. Doctors will tell you that conception is well nigh impossible with this condition. That you need fertility treatment, IVF, pill-popping, all the very best medical science can offer. And of course, if you also have poly cystic ovaries like I do, things look even worse. But gues

Pain (a short-fiction piece)

"Shalu, open the door. For god's sake, let me see you. Please, can we talk?” She can hear the desperation in Ajith's voice. In the background, a child is crying loudly, their son. He is scared something is wrong with amma and appa. His hands, feet and neck are red and slightly swollen. The mark of an angry hand is clearly visible. Her hand.   She cannot open the door. cannot move, the pain inside her so full to bursting that only a greater pain can make it bearable. This hand I used to hit him, she mumbles to herself, this hand, I wish I could cut it off, if only...it will break, crumble into nothingness. Just like me, just like me.... She stops, body bruised and aching. Throwing herself against the wall again and again, to dull the pain inside, has left her knuckles grazed, but the bones are not broken. No, not so easy to break, she thinks. Not so easy to erase what I have done to the one being who is solely dependent on me. I am a monster. Outside the locked door