Food for thought
Long back, I bought this big shopper not because I loved the caricature and the caption painted on it but because I loved the colour combination. Red and blue. Red, which is usually associated with love and blue signifying melancholy, like your Monday blues. Little did I know that these colors and the bag itself will hold so much meaning one day.
It’s been 5 years since I left Calcutta. Every time I leave the city to return to my workplace, Ma, who makes tall claims of not being able to cook the bare minimum and surviving just on maggi, will concoct delectable delicacies that not just last during my journey but also for a few days thereafter.
The sandwich maker, which keeps lying inside a kitchen cupboard, is usually used by cockroaches to seek shelter in its nooks and crannies and lay more eggs. It keeps gathering dust throughout the year. It is now brought out to make keema sandwiches (easiest way to prevent oil from dripping and soiling my clothes) so that my stomach does not groan with weird gastric noises when I am hungry during my return journey. Happily, I take them out and pop them into my mouth one by one during my entire journey.
I bring this bag with me everytime I come to Calcutta and Ma ensures to fill it to the brim with all that I love to eat. There have been times when I have coaxed her to make a particular dish before my departure but her school schedule has successfully facilitated her forgetfulness. On the last day, when I ask her to spend time with me instead of spending hours in the kitchen, she just looks at me and says, “It’s not necessary that I have to look at your face while talking. You say, I am hearing.” All this while frying the pea kachoris in the piping hot oil with her heart and soul.
Indeed, God has blessed our mothers with magic in their fingers. Otherwise, how come a woman who claims to be a horrible cook makes such sumptuous meals that not just meet my hunger but also make my heart full?
This bag is not just for holding goods. It’s a reflection of my mother’s love (red) and the melancholy (blue) that sets in when I miss her. Indeed, happiness is mom’s food!
About Author
Raajnandini Mukherjee hails from Kolkata. She is a mass-com professional. She has worked with news organisations, such as The New Indian Express and The Times of India, at various locations across the country. Currently, she is based in Delhi and is working with the Hindustan Times. She is in her mid 20s and fond of adventure.
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