That’s it!!

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So many times in a day I feel sick and tired of so many things that are persistent – won’t budge, won’t change- and decide – no more of it, that’s it!! I can’ t take any further. But again the next day or next minute or next week depending on the criticality of that event or situation, I erase the thought and bounce back my indefatigable self and am ready for more, thinking -what can’t be cured has to be endured. I wish the words that’s it would really mean that’s it.
Coming to my cooking abilities, it doesn’t come to me naturally but I just try. If the result is good, I give myself a pat on the back, if not I don’t like to be criticized. That is the bottomline but criticism or suggestions for betterment if you want to sugar-coat it are always there- thanks to a husband who can really cook and has been trying his hand at the stove and saucepans before I ever entered the kitchen. I was pushed into this cluttery nook of the house- thanks to holy matrimony.
So its been a good 7 years that I have been playing with spices and flour, and at times I try my hand at things exotic and beyond my reach and prowess. And festivals in this foreign land, awaken the surreptitious spirit of binding with the Indian roots and culture and that results in unasked-for fiascos. And considering our multi-faceted, multi-religional background, I always try to cook something special for Eid and Diwali. Eid is easier as its sewaiyan or sheer which is easy as the dear milk does it all by itself.I have seen mom multiplexing between dishes and all the attention that sheer ever required was an occasional stir so that it doesn’t stick at the bottom. The pure milk simmered for 60 minutes is rich and forgiving enough to camouflage any discrepancies. I thought that the creamy, consistent taste of it liberates the mind of any negative feeling about the sugar being a little in excess or the sewaiyan being a little overcooked. But still there is that darn suggestion from the connoisseur hubby – “Don’t put the whole elaichis, better powder it for the essence”, because the whole ones have to be spitted out and isn’t gentlemantly enough to do that. The acrid reaction from me- “Never mind,don’t eat it, anyway I didn’t cook it for you.Thats it!!”
Diwali is another big challenge and a week before I am asking friends and sisters for recipes for sweets.My sister comes to my aide often and she e-mailed me the recipe for besan ke laddoo. It was too ambitious for me but I started the uphill mission –went grocery shopping for besan and ghee and started the project.I never knew that besan with ghee and sugar becomes so heavy to stir!! Had my dad seen his engineer-with-MBA daughter fighting with the besan, I can’t imagine how he would react. My parents believe strongly that I can’t cook because whatever time I have been with them, I just entered the kitchen for refilling my plate or for leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. So, coming back to the laddoos, the result was Ok for a first-timer- at least I thought so and rushed to give my son the taste of it. Building his laddoo background is his grandmother’s doing-she would always be ready with a generous box of laddoos, so my son was delighted to see the yellow sweet not-so-round balls .The hubby tasted it too though it wasn’t offered to him as I knoew he would immediately like to relive the taste of his mom’s laddoos, and I can never in my life offer any competition on that front. No immediate reaction from him!
Next morning , the first words I hear in my conscious state – “Besan is a little kachcha, a little under-cooked.”I don’t say a word but say to myself- thanks for the appreciation and the recipe for spoiling my day. I am not going to try anything fancy ever-that’s it.
And why only fancy stuff , day in and out, before eating he has to fetch for salt and 4 types of achaars to deal with it- so I will give up cooking altogether, I am not enjoined to do it and I don’t have the knack for it and I go on strike often- for a day or two. But wait a minute-what about my son, who although thinks, speaks and dreams in english, but eats only desi yellow daal and rice. So, strike comes to an end and I am determined to quit at the next least-offensive remark. Thats it.
Is that really it?

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