Cooking might be a lot of people’s preferred stress-buster these days. Pick up any celebrity interview and read about their desired course of distraction from their busy schedule. In all probability, their answers would be along the lines of baking a three layer cake with graced topping and a cherry on the top. However, for cooking illiterate like me, who couldn’t quite grasp the difference between a teaspoon or the serving spoon — or any spoon for that matter, cuisine preparation is a difficult hobby to sustain.
Cooking is an art, a knack for which cannot be mastered by those not in possessions of innate talent required in the business. Don’t get me wrong. Of course I am of the opinion that consistent hard labor and intense dedication can make a Mozart out of anyone, however untrained. But at the same time that little touch of artistry naturally ingrained in some people give them an explicit edge over the ones who are artificially trying to inculcate the craft. I came about this epiphany when my mother, who genetically harbors an avid fondness for appetizing food, forced me to undertake many cooking session during past few weeks.
It would be an understatement to say that she was disappointed with the outcome of our joint sessions. As a matter of fact, she was enraged. She was fuming because her daughter couldn’t even cook something as simple as bhendi ki sabzi without shamelessly burning the half of it. Much worse, my family boasts of having produced greatest if not exactly famous cooks.
Notwithstanding the initial glitches, being a doting mother that she is, she affectionately tried to negate my full-fledged incompetence to cook by labeling it as half-hearted efforts of a scatter brain, too lazy to realize her full potential. And thus, new chances were thrown at me, each one more demanding than the previous. Dal, rice, and salads; I tried it all. And do I need to elaborate the little fright attack my heart staged every time my mother decided to conduct roti making lessons? Pretty sure everybody knows the dilemma when your parents try to teach you how to make a circular roti. Phew! Past few weeks have been difficult.
I am not sure about my mother, since she still is hell-bent on proving that her youngest one, too, is a hidden gem, as far as cooking is concerned. Nevertheless for me, I have realized my potential, done and dusted, screaming at me that cooking is not my cup of tea. Knowing what sauce goes in what pasta, what topping suits which pizza and the tidbits of making finger-licking paneer ki sabzi is just beyond my utterly minimal capabilities.
So this goes out to every domestic God and Goddess of the planet who are perfectly in sync with every humble culinary trick: I BOW BEFORE THEE!!