MY STORY

     I was born in a small village of Gandhigram which is situated in the Dindigul district of Tamilnadu, India. I was born into a family of four. I have three siblings; I was the third born. As a family, we were poor and worked hard to make ends meet. We came from really humble beginnings. My parents worked at the Gandhigram Trust. They worked with the Khadi fabric, dyeing them white. My childhood was tough as my parents worked days and nights to keep us happy and satisfied.
        My siblings and I were brought up in Gandhigram, and we all attended a government school in that village. It was a typical local school which provided us with lunch every day. Looking back, I cannot even think of describing the food that they provided us with. But as the food was a necessity, I used to gulp it down with total distaste. They used to serve the same food every single day, and it never tasted good.
      In comparison, the food at home was heaven. I remember coming home and eating the only hot and fresh meal of the day…dinner. My “Amma” as I address her lovingly, used to make dinner for all of us. Every single time Amma made food, I used to stand there beside her and observe the interest and love with which she prepared the meals for the family. There wasn’t any television to entertain me. So, any opportunity I got, I found my way into the kitchen, either observing my mom cooking or helping her by cutting the vegetables. Studies became my second priority. My interest in being in the kitchen and helping my mom just grew. She never discouraged me from being there or helping her out. I was the only one who showed a keen interest in cooking.  Those days, back in the village, cooking was done on a firewood stove. There was no gas to cook on. Watching my mother cook on that was so intriguing. The ease with which she cooked amazed me and literally encouraged me to follow suit. There were days when Amma had to work a night shift and could not come home to feed us. Those days, we kids were left with nothing but leftovers. Thinking back to those days leaves me with a lump in my throat. There were days when my brother, four years elder to me, used to prepare dinner, and my sister and I would take the food to my parents at their place of work. It was a tough life for a 13-year-old. Those were difficult times. There were some nights when there was no food. 

       I guess it was just the love for the family and resilience that kept me going. I was only thirteen when I told myself that something had to be done.It so happened that one-night, Amma could not come home as she had to assist my dad at work. My elder brother was sick and could not cook and make us dinner. That was my first opportunity to cook a meal at home for everyone. It was the moment of my life where I felt a whole lot of mixed feelings. Though I had entered the kitchen before to help Amma, this was the first time I was entering the place to cook. I was happy, excited, and, at the same time, scared. I was afraid because I had never cooked a meal on my own. Helping Amma with cutting vegetables was one thing, but cooking was a whole new ball game altogether. From then on, there was no stopping me. My interest in cooking only increased. It was all new to me. I cooked and failed at it miserably. The first few times turned out terrible. But ‘giving up’ wasn’t there in my dictionary. It never was an option. Sometimes the curries turned out too watery; sometimes, it would turn out too salty or spicy. I was my teacher, and I slowly mastered the art of cooking. I sure made a lot of mistakes, but that did not stop me from becoming a better cook. It took me a year to master those dishes. By the age of 14, I was cooking every night. I remember my dad coming up to me and asking me what my plan was for dinner every night. He never discouraged me. In fact, he was ready to taste my dishes every night. I felt like I was on the ‘top of the world’. I was ecstatic and overjoyed that I could cook perfectly well for my family. 

        I feel that this was the turning point in my life. I got completely immersed in the world of cooking. There were some small incidents along the way which give me mixed feelings. I had a friend of mine who loved dosas…the Indian kind of pancakes. He did not like the way his mom made it for him. Instead, he would take me to his house and request me to make the dosas for him. I would keep making and he would continue to eat. I would not count. I was just simply happy to see that he enjoyed what I cooked for him despite his mom standing right there. It is funny, but at the same time, internally I was excited and that partially boosted my self-confidence. There was another incident that I cannot forget as it became and still is relevant to my life. I was still 13 and very innocent. My daily routine was going to school and then coming home and spending time with friends and family. I used to help the weavers in different activities. That was another of my interest. One day, I noticed one particular foreign lady. She introduced herself as Chandra from Florence, Italy. She said that she was an Italian handweaver and textile designer that was what brought her to Gandhigram to work with and for the upliftment of the khadi spinners and weavers. She rented a house and used to spend long periods in my village. I was extremely curious about her and her friends and what she had come to accomplish. The way she worked with the weavers and encouraged the artisans was outstanding. It was so heartwarming to see that people still cared.
        She was a warm person and encouraged me to develop my skills well. I would visit her home, and she would give me some assignments like cutting the fabric and pasting it, caring for the puja room, and activities that I would complete with care. Noticing my inquisitiveness and willingness to help, she took me under her wing. It was only after meeting her friends and her, that I started speaking English well. That gave me the self- confidence to be amidst her team. She always said that there was a spark in me and that she wanted to help me grow as a person. I got the opportunity to cook in her kitchen, which was fantastic. In my heart, I was so thrilled that she got an excellent chance to enjoy my cooking. Five years just flew by.
Chandra, whom I affectionately call “Aunty” is still very close to my heart. She is the inspiration behind my success in various avenues. She has encouraged me and always nudged me to do better and those 5 years were the most precious years of my life. She always considered me as her son. She did her best to inspire me and bring out my best. She was insisting on the importance to follow vocational training and recommended and sponsored me for a one year course at Mitraniketan, a Gandhian NGO in Kerala.

         At the age of 17, I went to Kerala to study in a Vocational cum personality development carpentry training. Kerala is the southernmost state in India and there I did get a chance to learn some typical dishes. It opened a whole new world of south Indian cooking. I lived in a hostel there. There were classes that I did attend, but part of the agenda was physical fitness. That part was something that least interested me. Soon I figured out a way to get out. I just used to pretend and fake ache in the body and that was it. I was out of there in a jiffy. And where did I land up…. in the kitchen….of course. From then on, the kitchen had one regular visitor….me. I noticed that there was one frail, old woman whom we fondly called “Ammachi” who used to cook all the meals. I went and helped her out, every chance I got. 

      That keen and intense observation helped me to imbibe those culinary skills. Cooking came easy to me. I never saw cooking as a work to be completed or a chore. It was fun. Observing how the dishes were made, made me realize that there was a totally different world out there that I could explore and learn from. As the year went by, I learned Malayalam… the language is spoken in Kerala. My weekends were spent in helping at an Italian NGO. This place turned out to be ‘home’ to Italians. This was a blessing in disguise. They prepared meals and dishes that were so new to me. I had never seen food like Italian pasta in my life. This absolutely gave me an occasion, an opportunity to experiment with that international cuisine. I still do have fond memories of that; pasta is one of my favorite dishes. My journey did not stop there.

          At the age of 18, I moved to Bangalore. This is a city in the state of Karnataka. Life was good for me. In the sense that, I had to stay alone and that pushed me to learn some of the dishes from that state. Each state in India has its unique dishes. In addition to cooking, I also learned to speak their language which is Kannada. That one year was an exceptional experience for me. But my journey was cut short and I ended up in Chennai a year later. I landed up in Chennai and began to live with my brother. It was here that I had complete control of running the kitchen. It was like my play store. I had the freedom to experiment without anyone breathing down my neck. It was such a relief to have my ‘kitchen’ and cook. Most of the dishes were self-taught. Only when I came to Chennai, did I get exposed to the whole variety of vegetables. Till then, my culinary skills were good but limited. With so much diversity available, I experimented and tried new recipes. I smile to myself when I think of my brother. I felt so sorry for my brother at times. He, unfortunately,  became the scapegoat to all my experimental cooking. He really had the patience and enjoyed the dishes that I made.

         I quite remember I used to observe the lunches that my colleagues used to bring to work. The colors and the flavors fascinated and interested me. I recall, coming home and trying it out just like how I saw it. I never did have a formal teacher who taught me how to cook. I was observant and enterprising. It was pure interest and my curiosity that pushed me to learn new dishes. Some of the vegetables were new to me; some I have never seen before. I would notice certain new dishes and vegetables. I had to come home and prepare that dish. That was something so innate. That came so naturally to me. I would try different permutation and combinations and make the dish perfect….of course to my liking. I would say, it took me about three years to perfect these dishes.

        Over many years I did have the opportunity to spend time with many senior citizens. Trust me, they are a world of information, recipes and know a lot about healthy village cooking. They are just walking encyclopedias on cooking. I was lucky to spend time with them and learned a lot about village cooking. They used natural ingredients in their cooking and believe me…. the taste of the dishes they made was unbelievable. I did ask them for the recipes but finally, make them my own by modifying the dishes to my liking. I was so lucky to be associated with people who shared their favorite recipes. Now I continue to live in Chennai with my siblings and love to cook for them every day. The happiness that I see on their faces when they taste my cooking, fills my heart with complete satisfaction. My brother has fond memories of both of us together and me cooking for the two of us. My dishes have surely evolved, and some are too detailed. He sometimes misses the simplicity of my dishes. But I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for his patience and encouragement. I do visit my parents in Dindigul sometimes. I cook for them…. every opportunity I get. I guess, it is just a way to thank them for all their patience and love and it fills my heart with complete gratitude. The kitchen as I see it is my play place, my stage and I am the magician who brings life into the dishes I make. I thoroughly enjoy what I do and love to see the happiness and gratification on the faces of the people I cook for. That pleasure is my encouragement and motivation to do better. According to me, I am still in the process of learning. Learning never ceases and I am yet to conquer the kitchen to its fullest....