Cooking : My Path to Inner Peace

I detested cooking. Truly, I did. At the age of 12, my mother, in true Marwari mom fashion, insisted that I learn how to make roti, cook veggies, and master the art of boiling curry. That’s where my emotional journey of cooking truly began, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Despite my initial resistance, I found myself reluctantly giving in. I became both resistant and pliable,  my cousins, uncles, and father in our joint family unwittingly becoming the guinea pigs in the process.

They affectionately indulged in my burnt rotis, overcooked subjis, and excessively watery dal. As the eldest child in the family, they were excited by the prospect of witnessing the new lessons I was undertaking.

However, I, on the other hand, did not enjoy it at all. I couldn’t help but wonder why my brother was exempt from these culinary lessons. (Poor him – he actually enjoyed cooking when he was young and even crafted some delicious dishes.) Not by coincidence, I came to the realization that cooking was one way to subjugate women. Assuming that I could escape the kitchen by becoming a woman who earns a living, I doubled down on my ambition to study ahead and prove my worth.

During my hostel stay, I encountered fellow girls who surprisingly enjoyed cooking, or at least prepared meals when the food provided was unpalatable. I consciously distanced myself from this activity. I would often declare, “I would want a husband who is not a foodie” to anyone willing to listen. Lo and behold, I eventually married someone who cared little for taste and never made specific demands from the kitchen.

It was also advantageous that my mother informed my prospective mother-in-law about my limited culinary skills before the wedding. My new family lovingly embraced me with all my abilities and non-abilities. My cooking life unfolded just as I desired.

Of course I did have to cook, and I thought it was merely to provide sustenance for myself and my family, I could hardly derive any pleasure out of it. 

But as I found a partner in my life, I came to realize how food could be one of the most intimate things I could offer. A taste unique to my cooking became an offering to my partner, a manifestation of my love for him. It didn’t matter whether he cared for the taste; what mattered was that I cooked so he could experience it.

My act of cooking transformed into one more medium of expression .

With the arrival of kids, cooking also transformed into a mode of care and creativity. Each passing day and year brought forth new demands for recipes from the children, and I enthusiastically complied.

As they grew up with my style of cooking, it became evident that they considered their mom’s cooking the best in the whole world. This became my ultimate reward. It was fulfilling to know that there were at least two little people in this vast world for whom my cooking stood out as the best. After long breaks on vacations ,mine or theirs, they would eagerly crave my dishes, and I relished in their validation.

Their appreciation provided me with the impetus to continually learn and experiment with new recipes for my little fans.

What provided me with the most sustenance were the morning rush cooking hours when the entire household busied itself with getting ready for school and the day ahead. Amidst the hustle, I found solace in the kitchen, engrossed in the planning and execution of meals. Before I knew it, this routine became the most de-stressing part of my long day, offering a respite from the demands of work, clients, bills, and the constant shuttle between classes for the kids.

Alone in the kitchen, cooking and preparing tiffins, it became my therapeutic haven, a place to unwind and find peace. The regular tasks of cutting vegetables, making rotis, filling tiffins, and cleaning the kitchen provided me with a moment to organize my thoughts and mentally prepare for the challenges of the day. It became my dedicated de-stressing center, allowing me to face the day with a clear mind and renewed energy.

It is widely acknowledged that the food one prepares engages all five senses before nourishing the body. However, what often goes beyond mere sustenance is the profound connection between food and our most basic emotions—it has the power to nourish the soul. The ability of food to elate and significantly impact one’s day is something I’ve come to truly appreciate. The excitement lies in realizing that through my cooking, I can evoke these emotions and contribute to uplifting experiences.

Over the years, I’ve developed a genuine love for cooking, whether it’s preparing everyday meals or crafting special dishes, whether for immediate consumption or for storage.

The joy of cooking is an intimate experience, shared only with those you deeply care for.

Engaging in the act of cooking has illuminated for me the concept of the ‘love of labor,’ as envisioned by Mahatma Gandhi. Being physically immersed in the process transforms it into a meditative activity, offering far more than anticipated. To me, cooking is akin to spinning a charkha; it holds a significance that goes beyond the mere preparation of meals.

As someone once aptly said, and with whom I wholeheartedly agree, “In the kitchen, I find my therapy. My escape. My Zen.”