Food and Togetherness
A timely call from a friend, that too inviting to share home food, brings a spontaneous smile, with ease! Especially when your mundane life seeps through the porous walls of inner self and you try hard to not to drown yourself in it.
Food. Food is not a simple thought. Food is,well beyond the need to satisfy the physiological hunger. Of course, we never acknowledge it till we leave home!
At this point in life, cooking is definitely liberating and therapeutic because the art is not being forced on me as a daily task. I’m privileged to bring food into my plate without the pressure of poverty. And as long as I’m privileged, I should keep getting reminded of people deprived of it and people who are forced to cook in the name of patriarchy. Because we are all together and nothing makes true sense if we can’t think of everyone.
I remember how I took home food for granted, when hostel Life was bombarded onto me, more than a decade back. Despite the number of food items grossly outnumbered, what I used to get at home, it never mattered. Growing up, we were always told not to demand food at home. My dad made it clear that mom's good has to be enjoyed without demand. It really helped coz, to see the person who cooks for you is as equally important as the food itself. And I'm grateful to my dad for that, Who went on to learn cooking and help my mom as and when it is needed, which is all the time.
Food, unless made by people who feel you matter, unless it is grown with an essence of the farmer's peace, unless it is made beyond a customer relationship, gets boring very soon. Sometimes, it fails to even make the first good impression!
The attention to simple food didnt come to me until I met Dhavamani amma in sittilngi. She is truly a Wonder Woman. She has been an anchor for the sittilingi hospital campus itself. She knows who missed every meal and she can retrospectively remember the previous meals we all skipped. Whenever we used to eat somewhere else and not touch mess food, we would be very apprehensive about seeing her eye to eye, the next morning. We repeat the same mistake so many times, but she has never given up on us! Despite her senility and her arthritic knees, her love has remained the same. Her love to cook like all of us are her children and her spontaneous interest in taking care of others' good will always amaze me!
Around two years back, I took my back pack and left home, to embark on a very destination free journey. The journey was interesting since I had no goal, no intention to succeed and all I knew was, I had to be a passive listener. I got a new phone with a good camera, to record the memories in terms of pictures.
The first trip after the new phone was to a vibrant meeting at Gujarat but my phone stopped working even before I reached. I felt bad for a few days. My greed for Instagram posts and Facebook stories didn’t leave me and I was disturbed that I didn’t have any mass media to communicate.
After a week, I landed in Kalahandi, Odisha. I had the privilege to go to the rural tribal centre’s of the NGO, swasthya swaraj. They were located in two tribal kondh villages, kaniguma and kerpai. These are remote villages dispersed inside the young green fresh forests of eastern ghats that’s made even more beautiful by heavy monsoons. Every day was new, colourful with a different experience. For a period of four days, we stayed in kerpai clinic and we literally got cut off due to rains. No power, no phone and heavy down pours were constant for day and night. The road which we had traveled to reach had become 2-3 feet deep streams by over night. But the tribals didn’t bother much. Nature, uncertainties and calamities are part of their life. Even in those heavy rains, we saw them walking across the fiercely flowing stream to rescue their goats that went grazing to the hills. They formed a human chain in the stream and passed their animals from hand to hand. Despite their efforts, they lost one of their sheep’s and felt very disturbed.
I read a lot of books, spent time with the team, gazed at the clouds and the hills for hours, learnt some tailoring and above all, had a peaceful sleep. I realised my greed of false assumption that I can record these life experiences with mere photographs. It doesn’t make sense now. The fourth day of stay, I was informed that I need to check on the mother who delivered in the next village. Apparantly, the men of the village had come early morning to our clinic. This place was 2 kilometres away, but the absence of roads and lack of electricity obviously made it more cumbersome at 4 in the morning, when she went into labour. They couldn't carry her, so they came to call us. Since we didn't respond (it was pouring heavily and we didn't hear them. The outside gate was also locked), they left. She delivered at home itself, and by the time we all got up, we were informed by their village health worker.
After our breakfast, I went along with one of the nurses. We had to walk for 45 minutes to get there. There were no roads, slushy ground literally sucked our foot in. We had to battle against the ground for everystep. Once we reached the house, I was quite blank. I didn't really know what to do or even what to think. But, my friend, the nurse taught them how to cover the baby, checked the mother and gave them the post delivery kit we carried along with us. I couldn't believe how this was all happening in 2019, where a mother in labour couldn't go to a hospital, because of lack of roads, lack of hospital and what not. Outside the house, the mother in law, was calmly cooking. It was rice and dhal. They asked us to stay back, but we told them we are leaving. The husband came running and gave us a few biscuits. I didn't understand how they felt obliged to feed us despite whatever that happened.
It really put me off for the entire day. But the next day, I woke up and I was given a surprise. Our staff went for a mushroom hunt inside the forest, and brought mushrooms, that had grown in the previous few days of rain. I had mentioned about having wild mushrooms, but I had forgotten about it with whatever that happened. I remember how I teared up, how I hid it from everyone. Of course, when you feel lost and helpless, it was like a gift of humanity... I had the most delicious mushroom curry in my life, that was a result of love, forests and rains. No money was involved. And I felt hopeful, that we can sail through the inequities, if we keep reminding each other, the oneness, that we all long for! And I’m glad that I don’t have pictures of those moments since it has not lost its significance despite that.
Comments
Post a Comment