My Experiments in Kitchen

Cooking had always been my weak point. I always thought of it as something I'd never learn to do. For one, I did not have any interest and second I was really awful at it. Especially when your younger sister is admired for making tasty food, you never really get a chance to pull her from her throne and rule the kitchen.

Not that I never made an attempt. I really did. I remember once I entered the kitchen with sheer enthusiasm leaving Mom with her hand on her mouth in shock. I ignored several giggles from the very encouraging family of mine.
It was a simple task to make 'Pithla'. Well you have to do the tadkafirst. I folded the sleeves of my dress in style and added cumin seeds and onion in the heated oil. As the onion started turning brown I panicked asking for further instructions. In all the havoc I added grated coconut in the tadka.
'YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO ADD COCONUT IN THE TADKA!!!' I heard Mom screech at the top of her voice. Making a swift Ninja move, she turned the gas off just in time. I was sent out of the kitchen and came out with my eyes on the ground like a defeated warrior.

That could not discourage me. Instead, it made me burn with shame and anger. Soon enough I tried making custard reading a recipe from somewhere. After reading the instructions several times, I started. It said one should stir the milk continuously while adding custard powder or it would form lumps.
I stood in the kitchen in the vindictive pleasure as I took the vessel off the gas seeing no lump had formed. After cooling I kept it in the fridge to set.
I had my fingers crossed when I opened the vessel after sometime. Smooth pink custard, I was already dreaming. All my dreams shattered when I found the lumps had finally formed somehow.
I offered the custard in a bowl garnishing it with dry fruits as if it would make it taste any better. Dad tasted it. I looked at him expectantly. He looked as if he would burst into a laugh. 'Wow nice!' He managed to say. My face fell.
'Oh no! It is really good. Don't bring more though. I have to be careful with sweets.' He stopped me as I tried to serve more.
Well no one was generous enough to taste the custard, let alone finish it off. In fact even I could not finish it. It tasted pathetic. Several days before it all went to dustbin, I had made many unsuccessful attempts to make people taste it. I noticed the guests did not stay for a long time when I offered them that overly thick custard.

Rather than embarrassing myself in front of others, I decided I should try learning cooking secretly. My next experiment was aloo paratha. Somehow I was confident that I could not mess this up. I boiled potatoes when I was home alone. I realized they were undercooked, as I could not mash them good enough to be stuffed in the dough. My super-fast brain suggested crushing it fine using the mixer.

As I opened the mixer, I was shocked to see what was inside. It formed a sticky paste that did not look like mashed potato. It was so mushy that when I tried to remove it from the mixer, it stuck to my hands. It was impossible to stuff it inside the round of dough. Before anyone could notice, I destroyed the evidences.

I bid an adieu to the kitchen. Kitchen is just not for you, I said to myself. No one even suggested me learning cooking because it could have been dangerous for the people around me.

I was the subject of ridicule in the office sometimes when I made egg-bhurjior bhindi.
'What is this thing?' someone would ask me looking at my tiffin, with the others tactlessly trying not to laugh.
'Why do you always cut the stuff so fine? I mean where is the egg in egg-bhurji??' Someone would ask from the other end of the table.
'Oh my! Is it Poha or Upma??' Someone would ask seeing my overly soaked Poha.
'Maybe we should call it 'Poma'!' and the table would roar with laughter.

I would try to laugh along with them and resent about my pathetic cooking.
'One day you would learn you see!' He would assure.

'What do you want on your birthday?' I asked him a week before his birthday.
'I want to taste the food made by you.'
I gaped at him.
'Do you want to end up in a hospital on your birthday?' I asked him.
He laughed.

On the previous day of his birthday, I decided to make paneer mutter. This was like studying for tenth standard when you are in the fifth standard.

It was different this time. This time I wasn't cooking to prove myself, this time I was cooking for someone and wished it tasted good. I didn't wish for not ending up as a subject of ridicule, I just wished I wouldn't disppoint him.
After I added all the ingredients and masala as it said in the recipe, I tasted the concoction.
'Is it I who made it?!' I had left myself stand there surprised for some minutes, with the sweet droplets on my forehead and hair gone frizzy with all the heat in the kitchen.

How I made it, I do not know. For all those years I had tried to learn cooking desperately, heard people making fun of me and all of a sudden I had made it perfect.

'Awesome!' He said when he tasted it, 'Told you would learn some day!' he grinned.
   
After that I knew I wouldn't go wrong at cooking. Somehow I was brimmed with a lot of confidence. I tried many recipes.

I realized you cook well when you cook for someone you love.

Now when I make Paneer bhurji, there is an unmistakable snatching of my tiffins.
'Wow! This Daal really looks tasty!' Nilesh says trying to avert his greedy eyes from the Daal on the day of his fast.
'Oh you really have learnt cooking! Why don't you teach these canteen people?' Mahesh says with an apologetic grin when I remind him how much he had teased me in the past.
I stare at Amit when he gulps down spoonfuls of Sevaya Kheer leaving a very little portion for me.
'Give me some more Poha. You make it the best!' Dad says eating greedily.
'Oh teach me how you cooked Simla Mirch in this style!' Mom requests me to teach her.
'You are Daal Tadka specialist. Mom did try making it your way. It never tastes like yours does!' my sister whispers so that Mom doesn't overhear.

I can't help smiling.

- Based on a seemingly far-fetched but true story

Shoebite

She trudged alone along the long road. She was already late. The sun shone mercilessly bright in the sky. The air was hot. There was no humidity in the atmosphere; her skin was burning as if she stood in a furnace. As though this wasn't terrible enough, her new shoes bit her toes.

She lifted each foot with difficulty. The pain was so intense that she could barely walk. For a moment she considered walking barefoot holding the shoes in her hand. However the road under her feet was heated like a hot pan.

She hated her new shoes so much she felt like throwing them away.

She reached her destination finally. She entered in an air-conditioned classroom and settled. She heaved a sigh of relief. The cool air was soothing on her head heated up in the scorching sun outside. She sat on the last bench, lonely as she always had been. Her feet ached a lot. She flinched with the pain as she slowly removed her shoes from her smarting feet.

Her toes were red. The smallest toe had bled. She winced at the plight of her toes.
She sat at the lunch alone and chewed the tasteless rice slowly looking around at the people sitting in a group, chatting and giggling together. It wasn't that she hated people. But she didn't feel like talking to anyone these days. She knew no one could understand her, let alone help. The pain was so much that her eyes welled with tears. No one saw her tears though. Like always.

She walked like a zombie, ignoring the lively conversations going around. She had lost interest in gossip and chatting long back. She felt a strange emptiness inside her.

When the class ended, she tried to wear her shoes. The pain worsened. She tried to ignore it. After a while, she thrust her feet forcefully inside the shoes, totally annoyed due to pain. She didn't look back nor did she wait for anyone. She walked back to her bus-stand alone. As always.

That wasn't really the shoe bite that troubled her. There were so many nights when she lied awake staring at the blades of the fan revolving above. Mostly she sobbed in her pillow, muffling all the noise. She would go to sleep at the wee hours of morning and snap out of her nap at some nightmare. She always woke up with bloodshot and swollen eyes. Fortunately no one noticed, or probably they did but dared not initiate a talk to her. She sat in the corners evading from people, sipped her tea alone looking far away. She was tired, broken. Suddenly her eyes would fill with tears remembering something in the past and she would gulp large amounts of air to calm herself down. A few times when she didn't walk with her gaze fixed on the ground, some people gave her smiles of recognition and she tried to return a smile. Her jaw muscles were so stiff that her face barely split into a smile.

She heard someone giggle. 'Hey! What are thinking? You are standing here like a statue! Aren't you getting late?' her roommate shook her.
She did not know for how long she had been standing there daydreaming.
Two years later, she was standing at her door in a pair of brand new shoes.
Well she had stopped using shoes since they hurt last time. This time she really liked the shoes and couldn't resist buying them. Well he had liked them too.

'Wow! These are awesome! Looking really cute on your feet!' he had smiled at her as she tried them on, pulling her by her waist towards himself.

She approached him in her new shoes the next day. She limped a little. As always her new shoes hurt her toes a lot.
'Oh my God! Why are you limping? Is it hurting a lot?' His eyebrows furrowed with worry.
'Yeah. I always have a terrible shoe bite.'
'Oh sit down here!' He supported her with his arms around her shoulders and made her sit on a seat at the deserted bus-stand.
'Wait!' he held her wrist as she was trying to remove her shoes. He removed her shoes as slowly as he could. He grimaced with pain seeing her wincing. She forgot her pain and giggled.

She stopped giggling when she saw her little toe smeared with blood. He looked shocked.
'Oh your toe has bled so much!' he said grimly.
'Yeah I didn't think it would be so bad!'

He promptly removed his socks and before she could ask what he was doing, he put them in her feet with the utmost care.
'It would hurt less now. I'd get some cotton and then we'll make sure it doesn't hurt anymore.' He planted a swift kiss on her cheeks leaving her cheeks burning hot.

She realized her eyes filled with tears. She kept looking down.
He lifted her chin up and stared into her eyes.
'Does it hurt a lot?' he asked worriedly.
'Nope it doesn't!' she looked into his eyes, a tearful smile spreading on her face like sunshine in a drizzle.
'Then why are you…' the rest of his words trailed off as she suddenly rested her head on his chest.

He ploughed his fingers through her hair and she remembered they were at a bus-stand even though it was deserted.
'I won't let any kind of shoe hurt you from now!' he said smiling at her.