"Today I saw a message from a fond well wisher asking me to continue to share beautiful and tasty recipes regularly as it is her passion to cook".
It took me back on a flashback and brought tears in my eyes.
There were days when I looked forward to eating yummy delicacies that Amma always prepared.
And there were a lot more days when she would conduct her cooking classes and some of which I would join and assist too.
I also remember a day when I made one of the worst Rasams anyone could ever have prepared and I may have been around 11 or 12 then.
I fondly recall days in school and college, when I enthusiastically participated in cooking and Salad dressing contests. Was always a boost winning those.
There were days when I enjoyed cooking so much and considered it a passion too.
There were days when I tried to learn a different state cuisine, to try and cook up a storm in the future, if my ex bf and I ever tied the knot.
And there were days I wanted to impress a certain someone in my Life, who probably hardly even tasted what I prepared.
There were days when I waited tirelessly for this certain someone to eat and tell me what was good and what was not, but always ended up being disappointed.
There were days when I yearned to sit together and eat as a family at least one meal a week or more but never happened.
There were also days when I would jump at the idea of any contest announced, and there were many days when I would walk back home with a prize. And the expression this certain someone had would always leave me wondering if I did something wrong.
There were many a days when I started to wonder if something was seriously wrong with me.
And then there were times when I started to question who I was cooking to impress. This led me to start to treat it as just a chore that I need to do when needed and to sustain our lives.
A lot of the above reasons almost always made me hate the thought of cooking. I hated stepping into the kitchen for many years. Back in the day, I always had help at home too as I was working full time. So in a way, it made my life easier to not fake the whole thing.
Having said all of this, once I moved back with Amma, it has not been a very easy transition. I always felt that she did not understand my reasons. Despite she being my biggest support, she always found a reason to let me know that I would do it right if I has continued to cook longer or always. Little did she know what I went through and the emotions I had stuck so deep within myself.
But after all these years and trying to cohabit and live cohesively under the same roof with my mother, it has been such a beautiful experience. I feel like a little daughter who is being guided and explained to, all over from the beginning.
I have also begun to realise that happiness comes from within, and to instil those lost interests has been a priority too. It has not been an easy ride trying to do something that you almost gave up on, but definitely not something that is impossible.
I am slowly starting to realise that I should stop blaming someone else for losing interest in something that I so fondly loved. I am in peace with that and that certain someone and determined to make it a priority in MY LIFE AGAIN.
There is an "I m Possible" in the word "Impossible". With that thought, I go on exploring deep into the woods. Miles to go before I sleep.
It took me back on a flashback and brought tears in my eyes.
There were days when I looked forward to eating yummy delicacies that Amma always prepared.
And there were a lot more days when she would conduct her cooking classes and some of which I would join and assist too.
I also remember a day when I made one of the worst Rasams anyone could ever have prepared and I may have been around 11 or 12 then.
I fondly recall days in school and college, when I enthusiastically participated in cooking and Salad dressing contests. Was always a boost winning those.
There were days when I enjoyed cooking so much and considered it a passion too.
There were days when I tried to learn a different state cuisine, to try and cook up a storm in the future, if my ex bf and I ever tied the knot.
And there were days I wanted to impress a certain someone in my Life, who probably hardly even tasted what I prepared.
There were days when I waited tirelessly for this certain someone to eat and tell me what was good and what was not, but always ended up being disappointed.
There were days when I yearned to sit together and eat as a family at least one meal a week or more but never happened.
There were also days when I would jump at the idea of any contest announced, and there were many days when I would walk back home with a prize. And the expression this certain someone had would always leave me wondering if I did something wrong.
There were many a days when I started to wonder if something was seriously wrong with me.
And then there were times when I started to question who I was cooking to impress. This led me to start to treat it as just a chore that I need to do when needed and to sustain our lives.
A lot of the above reasons almost always made me hate the thought of cooking. I hated stepping into the kitchen for many years. Back in the day, I always had help at home too as I was working full time. So in a way, it made my life easier to not fake the whole thing.
Having said all of this, once I moved back with Amma, it has not been a very easy transition. I always felt that she did not understand my reasons. Despite she being my biggest support, she always found a reason to let me know that I would do it right if I has continued to cook longer or always. Little did she know what I went through and the emotions I had stuck so deep within myself.
But after all these years and trying to cohabit and live cohesively under the same roof with my mother, it has been such a beautiful experience. I feel like a little daughter who is being guided and explained to, all over from the beginning.
I have also begun to realise that happiness comes from within, and to instil those lost interests has been a priority too. It has not been an easy ride trying to do something that you almost gave up on, but definitely not something that is impossible.
I am slowly starting to realise that I should stop blaming someone else for losing interest in something that I so fondly loved. I am in peace with that and that certain someone and determined to make it a priority in MY LIFE AGAIN.
There is an "I m Possible" in the word "Impossible". With that thought, I go on exploring deep into the woods. Miles to go before I sleep.
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