My World of Food and Travel

Let me wish all of you out there a very happy Durga Puja! My memories of Durga Puja, strangely, are quite recent. I was brought up in a tiger sanctuary where Kali Puja was more celebrated than Durga Puja. Even after we shifted to Guwahati, I could not attach myself to Durga Puja as fervently as our neighbours and my friends. Sis and I would grudgingly go to the local puja pandal to ask the Goddess’s blessings and then wait for the longest time for the ‘bhog’ to start. All the aunties I knew would be present in their finery and would look very busy, some distributing prasad, others flowers. Once or twice they would stop by and ask how our studies were going along. The microphones would be blasting with the panditji’s mantras and directions to his assistants, ‘now bring me this’, ‘throw away that’ and even the cursory ‘ki khobor (how are you)’ to an acquaintance in the middle of his chanting.  And then the serpentine queue for the bhog. Undoubtedly, that calls for a lot ...

I love inviting people over for meals. Perhaps this is a legacy passed on from my parents. Deta (my dad) used to invite people for lunch or dinner at the drop of a hat, although he found it extremely difficult to visit others’ homes for the same. Every weekend my mother would be found slogging at the kitchen, preparing an elaborate spread. From soups to desserts, everything would be made from scratch. Later, when we sisters grew up a little, we were able to help Maa in her chores. I would make the salad and sis would make the dessert. Sometimes, I would make the raita and sis something else. Deta had his own specialty – sweetcorn soup. At that time, I used to wonder why is it that we have to keep feeding others. Was it really necessary to cook so many dishes? I had put this question to Maa once and received a sharp rebuke. Today, I know the worth. My heart fills with pride every time I see appreciation of my food on the face of my guests, not necessarily in words. The food I...

I just love paneer. Period. I don’t care how it is cooked or presented. Quite an abomination for someone who is known for her non-vegetarian cravings! My husband, on the other hand, runs a mile away from it. His excuse is, since he was in Delhi for two years he just got over-fed or fed-up with paneer. He says he doesn’t remember any dish where paneer is not added!  At home in Guwahati, I remember my mom making paneer since we did not get it in shops for a long time. She would curdle the milk and tie it up in muslin cloth, keeping a heavy grinding stone on the top. The resultant paneer would be silky soft and so flavourful. When I moved to Mumbai, I stayed in a hostel where we were not served paneer owing to its high cost. That was when I discovered the joy of having it ‘raw’ with tomato sauce! I would buy some paneer from Punjab & Sind (the best!) and run to my room upstairs to taste my loot. I would either crumble the meltingly soft paneer or cut into thick strips ...

Another Sunday is drawing to a close, and palpitations have already set in. Another hectic week is staring balefully in the eye. Every Sunday evening, I hug the baby close.  One more week of day-time separation till the weekend comes. I wonder how the weekend manages to fly by! Weekends, during my growing up years, saw me at my laziest best. I was always the one at home who would wake up late, the last one to take bath and people would generally find me constantly either watching the idiot box or reading a book. My years in Mumbai as a single girl in a hostel spoilt me further. I had no house chores to perform or any other commitments. My sister, who had a working Saturday, would say good bye to me at around 7.30 am. I don’t remember opening my eyes or waving back at her. I would wake up leisurely at 8.30 – 8.45 am and leave for the multiplex near my hostel. And while reclining back comfortably to enjoy an English flick, I would sip my multiplex-bought coffee and munch ...