A Place Called Home!

I got married 2 years back to my childhood friend. With marriage came changes, lots of them, and I had to leave Bangalore to stay with my husband and his family. Because of space constraints we would spend the day at my in-laws’ house and the night at my mother’s house. This system worked because my mother’s house was a stone’s throw distance away!

Everything was fine till both of us started getting tired of shuffling here and there. The stuff was divided, and so were we. Sometimes it would get irritating to find out that what we require is at the other house. But we stayed on, since both of us were looking to move out of the city for better opportunities. We would visit exhibitions, people’s houses and take notes about what to buy from where, when we move into a place of our own. Travelling would also bring us opprotunities to collect souvenirs that just cannot be missed. I would ask all my friends and relatives to bring me fridge magnets as souvenirs too (I still do though). But those too, were never in front of my eyes.

All this shuffling got the better of us and we decided to rent a house of our own in the same city, till we move out. Many arguments and worries later, both of us were convinced that we can manage on our own. After all, in their era, our parents had managed to give us a good lifestyle, that too with children.

A ray of hope was right beside me when I imagined and thought about finding a place soon. Things fell into place so quickly, that we found a decent house in a quieter neighbourhood with accessibility to all things. And within a week, that ray of hope led us to this house that now we call of our own.

From buying appliances to helping each other out, it’s an adorable beginning to a new chapter of our lives. A neem tree and a bel tree call us their home already and we find solace in them too. Friends have started visiting us more often with our place to call as their own. And it’s nothing less than joyous when friends find their comfort zone in us.

It was in that moment of hope when we decided to take this step that I could sense a new world building around us. What would be different in our world? And here I have all the answers – a fresh new start, finding out that the other person is a surprise in many ways and holding each other’s hands through this whole process. It was and is – just a matter of faith and belief.

The Bel Tree!
The Bel Tree!
Souvenirs on the new fridge!
Souvenirs on the new fridge!


This post about optimism and hope is written for Housing.

The Cracked Bowl

Ever since I got married and found out that my husband is a foodie too, I have been more interested in cooking. I never would’ve thought that I would take up baking in my life! And yet I plunged into it wholeheartedly. 2 years of marriage gave me very little time to experiment with dishes although I would try and cook as much as I can. But the time after getting married has always reminded me of how simple things, that moms put into a recipe, turn out to be so yum!

This was reiterated yesterday on a food show that I was watching. The chef says that the beauty of home cooked food is that there are hardly 5-6 ingredients used in a recipe and the dish turns out to be heavenly! While he was being served food in a village in Punjab, straight from a mother’s kitchen, I noticed that she served him curry in a cracked stainless steel bowl. And it caught my attention like a memory does – long and lingering.

The simplicity of an Indian household lies in naive things, routine things. The kitchen is a very important part of our lives, which includes food. Unlike the plush crockery that we use nowadays, stainless steel plates and bowls have a different meaning. They speak of home. I have always looked back upon memories – of food being served in steel crockery. And never melamine plates! Even today when my mom suggests using melamine or glass crockery, I simply want to relish food in the good old steel ones!

There is no embarrassment in our kitchens, especially in villages, for food being served in any type of  cracked container. It’s just a sign of home, of acceptance, of food being more important than the serving dish itself. Like a mother’s hand, the serving dish holds the same importance since it holds the most special of recipes!


Steel Glass that holds the holy filter coffee!
A steel glass that holds the holy filter coffee!