It's not my cup of tea!

Relishing hot bondaas ( veg patties?), sipping an intoxicating cup of filter coffee and listening to a romantic number from the latest bollywood flick - was the way I would spend a cool, rainy day in Bangalore. ( yen maja!). My cushiony sofa would just add to my comforts on such a pleasant day.

My mom would cook other delicious eatables while I watched from a distance. Her patience or interest in culinary activities didn’t affect me much.

When I descended on a foreign land, spectacular changes took place.
To say the least, I could enlist my ‘Discoveries in time’ after about two months of my stay in Australia.

I recall with splendid clarity, the way I had entered the kitchen in my hall, for the first time - ripe with anticipation and longing to engage in food preparation. Even the stench of raw meat failed to deter my spirits. What I didn’t care to process, was the fact that I would not only have to cook but cook, mighty well, to keep my spirits high.

In a week, I learnt, that I had failed terribly at this activity. I would not get the number of chillies right or the precise amount of sugar or salt to be added. I would sometimes make the upma soggy and uneatable, sometimes end up making the sambar too watery.

Thankfully, before I starved myself in the pursuit of making delicious food, I began to be mentored by some friends. During these sessions, I would involuntarily recall my mom’s warnings of how I would suffer if I didn’t take enough interest in cooking.

The learner in me would emerge in the kitchen (expertly chopping onions) on certain days. On other days, one would see me slouched in a corner soothing my stomach with milk and corn flakes.

Such was the saga of an inexperienced cook in the midst of academic and social pressures – a saga that extended for about three months.

When I saw the first ray of hope, I had had a pan full of sabji, carrying an aroma in all directions in the same kitchen, at about midnight. The relief was paramount. I had finally learnt to cook.

It turned out, after all, that I could never utter ‘It’s not my cup of tea!’ again!