There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
– From the song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” by Byrds
How true this song is! I never realized it earlier. Long back when I was turning 20, I received a card from my bro-bhabhi saying this is going to be the most exciting decade of life. Very soon, I hit quarter-life crisis (even before reaching that age!) and wondered if there was any truth in that statement. You know, you always look back at your past with nostalgia. And my bros are always a decade ahead of me. But finally, towards the end of this decade I am beginning to see the truth in that statement.
There was a time in early 20s when the aim in life was to travel around the world. Ellie and Carl Fredricksen in Up wanted to go around the world at the age of 9. In third world, everything comes a little late. And the love for adventure and travel also comes in one’s prime!
Then there was a time to be a socialist. Not really that. I have always been in the company of people for whom that word simply means evil. Nevertheless, there was time to “do something.” Not saying that that time has gone and I don’t care about what I do anymore. But then I know anarchy is not an answer. It is just another prospect. I know how complex some problems are after trying to deal with them. I know all one can do is build a vision (plausible solution), work towards it, and hope its gonna work. I don’t have so much problem with things changing only in the next 20 years. Meanwhile I also have to live all this while.
So there came a time to stop all the wandering. To get stuck at a place, no matter how claustrophobic I might feel initially. Because, it is good to have a place you call home. It feels nice to have new linen, new lamps, new wind-chimes. It is fun to entertain guests to aalo parathas and fruit icecream. It feels nice to know history, geography of people in your apartment, people who work for you – the maid, the laundry man, people at the local grocery store!
Presently, it is a time when I turn completely domestic. The time to cook. Every week I make a new Indian dish. Every week I try a new version of pasta sauce. After maintaining travel documents to less-unknown -exotic places in the Himalayas, the time is to store recipes of age old traditional dishes in my hard disk. Daal Makhani, daal chilla, aam panna, gol gappe, besan-shimla mirch, gatte-ki-sabji, kele-ki-sabji, kadu-ki-sabji, lauki-ke-kofte and many more to come. If you are raising your eyebrows, I can just shrug my shoulders in response. Refer to the song above for any explanation. Its called the circle of life. When I was in hostel, I never thought I would ever cook as good as my mother. Or even bother to cook so many things. Now I know, how wrong I was. I still can’t cook every day meal for every day survival. But I m pretty sure, I am gonna try cooking everything mom ever cooked. Even the laddoos and all weird burfis. Its just the way things are! :)
So after spending days looking for a place where I go to celebrate my birthday and of course not finding a single tourist destination in this forsaken place, I have decided to just cook a hearty meal on my birthday. No chances of losing weight this year! Oops!