THE STORY OF MY LIFE PART III

In the year 1970, when we got married and moved to Bangalore, all was well, until the day Triloki said, “Let's eat at home today. Let's cook some dinner”. My culinary skills were entirely restricted. I didn't even know how to boil rice! I was quite taken aback at this demand.  I soon realised that this was not the  fairy tale which said, "And they lived happily ever after". 

A FAIRY TALE CASTLE

This was actually that nightmare  from which I struggled to wake up. I woke myself up and realized that I had not been sleeping at all, this was real life! Elves and fairies existed only in Fairy tales! My adventures in the real world began. Triloki knew that I had no clue where the kitchen began, so he very kindly bought me a recipe book which I still have even after that event having happened 42 years ago. So, I found myself trying to make potato curry and rice. It was success at first attempt. Quite encouraged, I took it upon myself the next day to knead dough and make chapatis. I thought that being a Punjabi, Triloki  would prefer chapatis. Thus began my memorable adventure with flour and water. I brought out a lovely paraat, a jug full of water and a beautiful red container filled with flour. I took out a handfull of flour onto the paraat, then poured the water, and then tried to knead the flour, then added more flour, then more water, and kept repeating the exercise ad -infinitum. For the life of me I could not figure out why I was unable to make that lovely dough which looks so nice and easy to knead. My eyes too were not being very helpful, they were not letting me see very well as they were busy shedding tears at my utter helplessness.

Triloki soon realized my misery and told me very kindly that he was really fond of rice and so that was prepared by him, and we could eat that evening.

As I had nothing to do during the day time, I enrolled in a doll making class which was held in a Lady's house at Malleshwaram. Here I met a Gujarati lady. They had emigrated from Uganda and were new to Bangalore. Those were the days of Idi Amin who was trying to get rid of all the Gujarati people from his country. A number of Gujarati's had gone to USA, UK and some came back to India. This lady very kindly took me under her wing and taught me how to cook.The adventures of Varsha in the Culinary land thus came to an end.

Now, I am a fairly good cook. Triloki, a man of few words is quite miserly with his appreciation of my cooking. If I cook something and ask him to tell me how it is, I ALWAYS get the standard reply, "Theek hai". It is never Good, Bad, Excellent, Delicious, or Lovely. It is just plain and simple and utterly bringing me down to earth, “Theek Hai!” After suffering for many long years with the thought that I was indeed an average cook, I  gathered up the courage to ask my friends how the dish that I had prepared was. When I got enough accolades for my efforts, I convinced myself that I am actually a good cook. Yet I still need reassurance now and then. Therefore often I taste what I cook and tell myself, "Splendid Varsha, you have done a good job".

Moral of the story is “Trust your own skills and do not look for compliments.”

Triloki of course has another explanation for his comment. He says when an Engineer says Theek hai it means that there is no need for improvement. I guess I just need to let it be!