Its been almost 9 to 10 months that I have almost stopped cooking regularly.
yes, it is something that I started when I was in 6th standard. Thats 11 or 12 years of age maximum. It felt like a burden then. It still feels like a burden.
Not that I dont like to cook. In fact making good food is pretty much an awesome creative activity that I love to do. It builds in that love for the people that i cook for. With practice maybe I did do good.
But then the new set of people whom i lived with after my marriage, didnt like it for more reasons than the actual food taste. It was a mix of jealousy and caste-ism. In my earlier days and even today, I love to see people feeling good about the food taste and presentation. People feeling happy of eating together. Until recently i was completely ok talking to my guests and cooking along with the talking, meeting people & being busy in the kitchen to amaze people with my cooking skills. With the aroma that flowed right into the gastric juices of my guests sitting right there being enthralled by my stories. That for the guests.
But for people at home, the happiness when I made something that they liked. That look into my lil one's eyes. That twinkle. & that ear to ear grin she displays when she gets that wonderfully cooked meal. Of her liking. And actually converting all that's unpalatable to being as delicious as ever. Even the Karla or bitter guard. Let alone the cakes, pastries and delectable dishes. There used be this happiness on her face that converted into happiness in my heart. She made it an activity that was treasured by me due to her reaction.
Recently this activity simply took a backseat. Rather disappeared. My mind started moving away from the everyday cooking. & it has to be done because it has to be done. not out of love. not out of the happiness.
There was so much more that was happening. the lil one falling mad ill. taking care of her while the then job being troublesome (bigger level). Me not wanting to be there anymore etc. Job change and everything. looking for a better place to move. Looking for the education of the little one. So much stress. Resulting into a cooking block. along with the writing block and the painting block and the singing block. All my energies were concentrated on survival. Of finding a good job. the quest for better and lesser troubles.
I did not cook. I did not make. Anything. At all.
& I felt guilty that i was'nt truly feeding my family as well as i could. As well I wanted to. I didnt meet my own standards. Of working hard to get food made on the table because i wanted to get food on the table.
My creative reserves died, ok, paused. Blocked.
We moved. To a new city. Better place. Better and helpful people. (that for another blog).
& lo n behold.
I got a maid who cooked !! complete luncheon was made at a very good quality level. way better than me in fact.
Oh I felt awesome!
The career woman in me thanked me. as much.
I got happy with the space, the time that I got for myself. I sang, played sitar, went for a walk. yes. that.
But that conditioning of being able to cook. of cooking for so long. From a very long time. making awesome food. All that. the conditioning does not go. The compulsion of cooking does not go. That satiation after cooking yourself and then managing to eat some of what you made does not go.
Anyways. I enjoyed that phase until last. Did i though.
I am back to cooking, making, doing. thats good too.
Should I feel guilty for feeling good for not cooking ? for feeling ok with not doing the household chores like a man ? Does a guy feel guilty ? ever ? For not doing so much.
