From the diary of a cooking novice


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!!


Dear India Parents, your daughter’s social life is equally important

Source: Pixabay
Source: Pixabay

Few weeks ago, I met a forgotten friend. Eyes were narrowed in recognition and smiles were exchanged at recollection. Even though both of us would have been at ease  to continue to remain oblivious of each other’s existence ; with regards to the friendly bond once shared,  we  mutely conceded  to fabricate a genuine interest in one another’s stories. Eventually, plans were made and we decided to go out for a movie.

While in a queue to buy tickets for our show, my friend good-naturedly confessed, “You know, this is my first time in the movie theater”. “How come?”, I asked with feigned interest. “Well, my parents have this weird theory that girls who go for  movies are morally lacking.  Somehow they figured that girls who have a social life is debauched”, she remarked as an afterthought. Too impatient to acknowledge my open mouthed disbelief, she hurtled towards the designated screen. The following two hours went in utter silence, during which it dawned on me, I was being a subjected to an act of concealed rebellion.


BMM: Much ado about nothing?

Being a Gemini gives you the luxury to come across as someone who is fickle-minded, indecisive and easily uninterested.  As a consequence, my inclination to make decisions in a spur of moment would be the only feasible excuse for siding with BMM after my HSC.  Save for the future wherein I turn out to be an illustrious and celebrated personality, I would continue to meticulously rue the day I decided taking up Mass Media as my plausible career option. Striking remark, innit? Well, earnest regret demands jarring words.

One may ask, what’s wrong with BMM? And while I’m compiling a list of everything decisively off the mark with BMM, somewhere an argument may pop up and remind me how anyone not in possession of talent (that would be me)  shouldn’t be permitted to cry foul over the incongruity of a course which is specifically created for the creatively sound and artistically gifted. Therefore, before you lambast me for defaming or demeaning the average and the creative (which, by the way, is not my intention), I would want to make this absolutely clear that whatever I am to elucidate in due course is derived from my personal experience, ensuing from my private dissatisfaction with the course of my interest. Hence, when I venture out to say that BMM was not worth 3 years, I exclusively speak for myself.


The course is nothing like they promise you. It is sold to you on the idea of practical knowledge, the sort that will adequately prepare you for the real world. However, reflecting on the last few years, the amount of knowledge I grasped was directly proportional to the number of meaningful internships I managed to acquire of my own accord. And given the fact that I  had the privilege of working just thrice, (notwithstanding the time when I naively ended up working in the response dept. of a media firm, which is nothing but a euphemism for call center, only poorly compensated), I consider myself to be pretty dim-witted and unprepared to face the inevitable mauling of reality.

No, I have nothing against working and learning during graduate years. In fact, I believe that experience is the best teacher. But my point here is, if everything I am going to learn about my field of interest is through internships, then, why should I waste a considerable amount of money (Yes, BMM is an expensive course to sustain) on a degree that taught me no more than to indulge in petty class politics during inter-collegiate fests (although, I won’t lie, I cherished this part). Why, rather not go for specialized course in the desired field along with a relatively cheaper and much more profound bachelor’s degree?

I know for the majority three years of BMM would be the best thing ever. Truthfully, if this wouldn’t have been my concluding months before I become a media graduate, I might have been raving the same. But now, as my conveniently sheltered bubble pops open, and reality slowly begins to sneak in, the years swiftly passed in enjoyment and ignorance seem to be somewhat wasted. And frankly, a tussle with discontentment is difficult to win.