I hate cooking. Each day when I wake up and look at my kitchen, the first thought that I get is to run away as far as my legs take me. Honestly speaking I am not a ‘bad’ cook but a ‘reluctant’ cook. Whenever I cook the food is not tasteless, yucky, burnt or salty and they usually taste good and that makes things difficult because tasty food always comes with repeat requests. Therefore, one day before leaving the office the man would request “Your prawn malaikari was extremely tasty that day, make it today, again”. This is usually on a day when my initial plan was to survive on a peanut butter sandwich. Similarly, on a day when I plan to sit with a new book and spend the day eating nothing more than dal chawal, the son would come back from school and hug my waist and look innocently in my eyes and request “Mamma, please make biryani for dinner today”. Kaboom!!! goes my plan to sit and read and I find myself slogging in the kitchen browning onions and mincing mint.
I know of numerous people who enjoy cooking. My mother and grandmother both loved cooking. My mother loved spending the entire day in the kitchen cooking and experimenting with food. She loved to invite guests for lunch and dinner only so that she could get an opportunity to cook an elaborate meal. Looking at her love for cooking and my apathy for the same, I often wonder that perhaps I was adopted. It is genetically impossible to be connected to her. She loved spending time in her kitchen, it was her holy place and for me, the kitchen is the place where I feel claustrophobic if I spend more than one hour. If I get my way, I would never prepare anything more than black tea in my kitchen.
I know of people who say that they find cooking relaxing, therapeutic and de-stressing. I am in awe of those people. I feel they are superhumans, aliens, angels. How can one find peeling, chopping, grinding, stirring therapeutic? For me just planning the day’s menu is enough to induce a panic attack. I genuinely admire my friends who post beautiful photos of food cooked and served by them. I suffer from an inferiority complex in front of these friends. I feel they are the epitome of patience and perseverance because I find cooking an extremely boring chore. I remember once I had read a post where it was written: “One of the most meditative times of my day is when I’m cooking.” I feel just the opposite. It is not a meditative time but a time when I genuinely need a ventilator. Jokes apart, there are days when I do cook a lot of things and they taste amazing but then I even hated maths yet managed to score 90% in my boards.
You read how I hate to cook, are you in my team? or are you the one who finds cooking therapeutic and meditative? I admire those who love to cook but unfortunately, I am not part of that team. Do let me know your opinion.