It is only when one loses something that one learns the value of it
By: K.S.Swati
From the city of dilli dil walon ki, comes a woman who was never fond of cooking. She and the mere thought of entering the kitchen had the distance of North and South poles yet, that one dish she made in her twenties, made her change her entire view for cooking. Rasam an integral part in South Indian cuisine is what caught Vijaya’s eyes for cooking.
After hurriedly making saadham (rice) and curry, I dragged Vijaya (my mother, in case I have not mentioned) to my room and asked her if she would tell me about her favourite dish. I assumed she would say aloo puri or chhole puri. But when she said rasam, my eyes widened. I knew my family and relatives love her rasam, but her own ties with the recipe came as a shock to me.
She said, “I always detest cooking. I only like to prepare rasam because it reminds me of dilli thatha(her father).” A small anecdote behind the names. My brother and I have this ritual of naming grandparents based on where they were from or a famous thing that they owned. There is car thatha, the first in our family to own a car, lal paati who would always to wear a red blouse… the list goes on.
Things changed after Vijaya got married. With the household to handle and in-laws to take care of, she slowly developed a liking for cooking. Her mother-in-law or my jsr patti (my grandmother who lives in Jamshedpur) was stunned when my mother told her she didn’t know how to cook during the engagement ceremony. My grandmother was bewildered but made peace with reality and accepted her the way she was.
When I asked her about the special ingredient, she was a bit hesitant. She chuckled and said,”Tujhe bata dungi toh meri secret reveal ho jayegi but tujhe kaam bhi hai toh bata deti hu” (my secret would be revealed if I tell it to you, but you have your work, so I’ll tell it to you). She revealed how she uses tomato, tamarind, ginger, green chili, coriander leaves, and rasam powder.
A little down the lane, she started experimenting with it, adding lemons, gota dhaniya (whole coriander seeds), black pepper, garlic, and few other spices.
Honestly, I always abhorred rasam even its smell. I remember telling her I couldn’t stand it. But hostel life and days spent encountering watery rasam with takkali (tomatoes) floating taught me the value of my mother’s rasam. The absence led to a fondness for what I once hated.
Now, I not only appreciate her rasam and her many inventions, but I also try to include it in every dal-chawal routine.
