Learning how to cook isn't a sin, but for the longest time I treated it as one. A refusal to give in to the gender-roled 'system' coupled with a big ego led to a much culinary-handicapped Pragya. Nevertheless, I am a firm believer in adaptation. When I depended on others (think: mother) for my sustenance, I didn't have to worry about feeding myself. Living in the Kheda forced me to learn on my own terms, without the pressure of adding value to my wifely credentials. In due time, I have learned how to cook. And by that I mean I've begun the process of learning. So I'm not a master chef, but my rotis are decent and I can make a mean tamatar-pyaz sabji.
The best part about meal-time is not the creation of edible goods, but that Nikhil and I work as a team. I don't feel obligated to serve. Cutting vegetables is no longer a chore but an opportunity for us to discuss what's on our mind. In fact, I've since realized that feeding oneself is a part of self-care. One shouldn't do it for others, but for oneself. However, it is the responsibility of all family members to contribute to the kitchen. It doesn't seem fair to drop the burden of the kitchen solely on one individual. Reality isn't as perfect as we'd prefer, and the dependency on one individual (think: mother) led me to believe that if I cooked I would be the only one. I was wrong.
Some people are quite selfless. They enjoy feeding others and take it upon themselves to ensure their loved ones receive the best dishes possible. Regardless of their level of fatigue, they will go above and beyond at the opportunity of satiating an empty stomach. I admire this class of individuals (think: mothers). Maybe someday I'll be one of them, but today, I'm not. Daliya and poha as breakfast options really do keep us happy.