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A woman need not 'know' or 'enjoy' cooking just on account of her gender. It has to be a choice, that even men should get - if they like to cook, they should be able to.
A woman need not ‘know’ or ‘enjoy’ cooking just on account of her gender. It has to be a choice, that even men should get – if they like to cook, they should be able to.
I have been very privileged. Unlike many other women of my generation, and the generations gone before, and even some of the next one (read – mine as the millennial cusp and next as Gen Z), I was never told that I need to learn to cook and find a husband to settle. I have been brought up by a single mother. I’d call her progressive even if she’s not as progressive as I am.
Therefore, I have not had to be inside the kitchen to learn stuff to ‘impress’ others.
As I entered adulthood, I learnt to cook simply as a survival tactic. Very basic. Roti, basic sabji, daal and rice. And Maggi of course. Omlette sometimes. And chai. I never tried anything else. Mom cooked and she is very pernickety. A laid-back, indisciplined person like me is a horror in the kitchen for her. And she never wanted me to cook and clean ever, anyway. Her priority for me was education and independence.
I didn’t realize that I love to be in the kitchen so much with my entire indisciplined person, until I shifted to Bangalore. I did make some fancy dishes in Mumbai but there was always this hanging sword of mom’s eyes. Here, the freedom of being in my own house gave me the leisure of making mistakes.
This freedom of making as many mistakes as one might, gives one a lot of confidence. Because you know there’s no one who will chide you for being imperfect. There is no pressure of making perfectly round rotis, you can mess around without your entire life and upbringing being judged by hundred other people. You are on your own. And having a partner who is willing to cook along with you, instead of leaving you alone in the kitchen while lounging on the sofa (he is someone who cooks very well and not just me, the man cannot see anyone at all slogging away without he contributing to it), and taste all the shit made is also very liberating.
So, we try stuff here. One by one.
I had never thought earlier that I would touch mutton or fish to actually cook it. And here I am, making mutton kosha and prawns curry with loads of spices and mustard oil, trying to understand the meaning of “tenderize” and “koshano” and stuff like that, mixing recipes, experimenting with spices, improvising, forgetting ingredients and enhancing them.
But I keep digressing. Because my point actually was that when things happen as a part of the natural process of evolution, they feel wonderful. When there is freedom and choice and consent and all the parties involved are happy to have an adventure and experience new things, it is wonderful. When things are forced upon us, when individual interest isn’t the focal point, these things just become chores that need to be finished.
The number of women who are left unsatisfied in their lives because of the amount of time they have to spend in the kitchen should be our talking point. The unpaid labour and the forced job description that is undervalued in the name of emotions and motherly duties and some such gobbledygook conditions pile upon women, leading them to believe they love cooking when many might actually not.
The femininity associated with cooking, with men occasionally assuming the fancy word chef for themselves, also creates barriers for many men who might actually love to cook but cannot because of societal stereotypes. More women liberated from the kitchen, more they discover their individuality other than simply being feeders, more we all cook because we love cooking, and not because we HAVE to, more people not leaving each other out, more we become a better world for everyone.
Learn basic cooking, everyone. And do it each day to feed yourself. Stop this dependence. If you see someone is in the kitchen cooking alone, go help, or just be there.
A version of this was first published on the author’s Facebook wall.
Image source: a still from 2 States
Writes about feminism, books, food and social issues ! read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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