Woke up early to a Pongal Morning. Early by Sunday standards, but late given the fact that I had a main course cooking responsibility on me. Dad and Grandpa get super enthusiastic when I take up cooking. They like to contribute in every possible way they can, to make cooking easier for me. If nothing,they look for opportunities to chop vegetables or grate a coconut. With repeated requests and reminders, I keep them away, to let me have a full time cooking experience.
Festive look was already in. Traditional rangoli at the door, melodious South Indian music in the background, Coconut, Fruit and Flower offerings to the Lord. What was left, was a proper South Indian Meal waiting to be cooked.
Given the full enthusiasm, the frequency of my thoughts (on traditional cooking) were stronger than I thought. So strong, that my kitchen walls and appliances sensed them. Within minutes, they began unfolding themselves in a manner and intention that pulled me back to reality.
To begin with the "Chopping Board" behind my tomatoes stared with a look "Traditional Cooking did you say?"
Just then the "Pressure Cooker" went off, as if,giving, a tongue in cheek expression to my traditional cooking zeal.
To my back stood a tall and mighty "Refrigerator", hand in hand with a "Modular standalone". All my ingredients of so called/ well intended traditional cooking were housed in there.
Every mustard seed that popped up, bounced back to a "Non stick Pan" base. It was their way of telling me, to come out of the fantasy world.
In a modern kitchen set up,with an Apron on me and wrist watch in hand, trying to locate traditionality was fantasy, I realized.