One fine day, Dad looked at me and asked, “What shall we cook today?”
It was our first time in Mom’s absence. We didn’t know what we were doing — but we decided on Mutton Mughlai anyway.
Dad brought half a kilo of mutton. He dealt with the cleaning while I roasted the spices and condiments. I would later grind them into paste.
When the paste was ready, it needed frying, adding enough water for two people. In went the mutton – the lid closed, and we waited for it to cook.
We weren’t sure how long it would take, so from time to time we would taste the gravy and check if the mutton was cooked.
After some agonising wait, it was ready. We helped ourselves to some steamed rice and the mutton gravy.
It has been more than 20+ years since this memory, and I still remember how it tasted. Word spread among my relatives about our cooking adventure. My aunt (Dad’s sister) was particularly amazed by our achievement. Mom was obviously proud.
The pride she carried was the confidence that, in her absence, we can fend for ourselves. But what led us to cook in the first place?
The story goes back several months to our cooking adventure. Mom had to go on a business trip for a few days. The first time this happened, my uncle was put in charge of my food needs. I went to school, came back and had what I could. Mom had also left me with enough cash as a backup.
Dad could manage for himself as his sister lived close to his workplace, so his lunch and dinner were sorted.
But my uncle grew so busy that he could not help me. All I could do was fry eggs, buy bread and have it. I had to make do with what I had. I was still a child.
When Mom returned, I hugged her and cried. Because in her absence, all I had to eat was eggs!
Several months later, Mom had to go on her business trip. This time, the previous lesson was learned. She ensured we at least knew basic cooking. She told us some good tips and tricks, which we gradually picked up.
That small act compelled me to experiment with cooking. Not that I was planning on becoming a full-blown chef! But realising that cooking is not a gender role but a survival skill. That brief adventure taught me how to cook when I needed to cook.
Later, I tried experimenting with cooking vegetables, but unfortunately, I ruined the entire cooking. My mistake? I used water to boil the veggies instead of using oil. I got the basics wrong. I thought I could manage it, but that didn’t go well at all.
Fast forward to 2026, I chose to stick with what I was confident about: soups, dal, fried rice and pasta.
I remember an incident when my daughter was around 3 years old. My Mom and wife had to watch a newly released movie called Drishyam 2. I was least interested in watching such movies on the big screen. Besides, the daughter would not allow everyone to see the movie peacefully. That’s why the two of us stayed back.
I was busy on the PC while my daughter watched TV. After a while, she cried out saying, “I’m hungry!” It was about 7:30 PM, and Mom and my wife were expected to arrive by at least 9. It was not close to dinner time, and ordering from outside was not an option. My wife has all of the food delivery apps on her phone. Calling her to place an order was not an option.
I had to improvise. I rushed into the kitchen and scouted for food I could cook. My eyes fell on the spaghetti, and my daughter was fine with it.
The plan was to cook it soon using minimal ingredients. So, I boiled the pasta, fried it with butter and added some Italian seasoning and pepper.
I prepared a little, so I wanted to ensure she would not waste it. She not only managed to finish the plate but also asked for more the 2nd and 3rd time.
Back then, cooking felt like a struggle. Today, it feels like second nature.
Not because I became great at it —B
But because I learned when I had no choice. And maybe that’s what cooking really is. Not a skill.
Just a quiet way of taking care of the people who depend on you.