Day 20 of the lockdown: I have now learned to cook 4 dishes in 20 days. In the spirit of the full disclosure, three of them require the same base and one of them is boiled rice. 


This is why I have pledged to never, ever again in my life complain, sulk, or get upset in any form when my mom feeds me the same thing twice in a row.


I vow to never ask her to make more than one dish because I like ‘variety’. And yes, my former privileged self is sitting in a corner, reflecting over my incessant demands. 


And never again will I look at a cooking show and comment, ismein kya hai, yeh toh main bhi bana lun. Because main nahi bana sakti. 

I can’t cook to save my life, and the lockdown has perfectly proved it. 


For the first time in my life, I actually understand in detail the efforts that go into cooking even a seemingly simple dish. 

And more importantly, the efforts it takes to clean a kitchen after you’re done cooking. 

I was never so ignorant as to think cooking was as easy as snapping your fingers. But, having never cooked a day in my life (before the lockdown), I did not realize how tiring, messy, and time-consuming cooking can be.


Earlier, I would expect the food to just magically appear any time I felt like eating. And the rare times that my mother did not have the requisite ingredients, my bratty self was quick to sulk in a corner. 


It’s the same corner from where I facetime my mom now, crying because I burned the last of my vegetables, yet again, and have nothing left to burn cook. 

She has solutions, I have a newfound respect. 


I truly think the phrase, nazar hati durghatna ghati, is for all the kitchen disasters that can strike if you take your eye off the stove for even 5 seconds. 


Over these last few days, I’ve also come to the realization that the most difficult part of cooking, apart from knowing how much salt to put, is figuring out the quantity to cook. 

In two days, I have had 6 identical meals because well, that’s the quantity of food I cooked. And it’s the second time I’ve made this mistake. 

So now, the next time mom uses raat ki sabzi as breakfast, she has my full support. If she wants me to have the same daal for lunch and dinner, because she was too tired to cook, she has my vote. 


Simply put, I am never, ever complaining about my mom’s cooking. Because not only is she an amazing cook, she’s also a damn considerate one. 

Maybe she is biologically conditioned to feed an ungrateful brat like me, but from this day onward, I vow to be more, much more grateful for all that she does for me. 


Because, and I never thought I’ll say this, but main aur Maggi nahi kha sakti aur nahi pasand mujhe khaana banana yaar.