Little touches.

A week or two back, as I chopped some cabbage to make some palya (Kannada for a dry vegetable stir fry dish – there are a zillion varieties), I realised yet again how much of my mother resides in me. In the past month or so, I am increasingly beginning to take notice of this. Of how far I have come and yet how much of home lives in me.

Ma used to never hurry or half-heartedly make anything. We may not have had elaborate and extravagant meals that seem to flood social media these days where a regular meal has half a dozen fantastic looking (and tasting) dishes. What we did have was one fantastic regular meal that was cooked with panache. I say this because ma always had some idea of up-ing a dish – maybe a different oggaraNe*(Kannada for seasoning) or some ground paste or a not commonly thought of vegetable combination. We were not big foodies (I am a foodie now thanks to K) but we appreciated good food. But it was not just about good food with ma. It was about giving yourself and giving it all when you take up something. Cooking, cleaning, making flower garlands, saying a prayer, meticulously looking at bank statements – everything was done to completion and to the best of her abilities. It did not matter as much to her how perfect the outcome was so long as she had given her best. And not a thing has changed. The lesson stays on.

So, as I chopped the cabbage and then pictured a possible paste that would amp up this palya, I thought to myself, “I will make it the way ma makes it, that would go better with…”, and then caught myself smiling. It is strange how these things rub off on you unwittingly. Which is why I do not feel as disappointed when something does not work out inspire f giving my all. But if I feel disappointed for something I haven’t worked for, I catch myself and remind myself of how it was more about me and not the circumstance. This mentality has helped me a lot and I am so grateful for it.

Small little actions that we did not notice as much back then but they have now become part of us, my brother and I. It warms my heart every single time I realise how close my parents are to me inspite of being thousands of miles away. And I cannot emphasise how beautiful that feeling is.

P.S. The featured image is the palya and it was great, incase you were wondering.