For my dear friend Peter, on his birthday:
Old friend from university days. She comes to meet me during my visit to a far-away city for a wedding. She takes a taxi and travels 2 hours up and 2 hours down with a fidgety son, to just spend half an hour with me, before I go away. And before leaving, she gives me two jars full of the ripe mango curry she made especially for me. She remembered that I loved it so much when I visited her place - and that was 16 years ago.......
A memory that returns every year, when I cut the first ripe mangoes of the season, in April. And like the April rains on parched earth, it refreshes me, reminds me that all is not lost, there is hope, there is still so much caring, so much giving, all around us.
I am always deeply touched by the offering of food. It moves me more than any other gift. A strongly etched memory from my favorite Amar Chitra Katha comic book of childhood days, 'Sudama' - the powa (flattened rice) that the poverty-stricken Sudama takes when he goes to meet his childhood friend, Krishna.
Sudama and Krishna were classmates and close friends at the sage Sandipani’s gurukula, for many long years. At the end of this period, they part ways, each to meet his own destiny. Krishna to become king, and Sudama a teacher, as befitted his caste and station in life. Later, Sudama and his family fall on bad times. The children are hungry; his wife has been borrowing food and money from the neighbors to get by.
Then one day she suddenly remembers, and asks hesitantly, "Maybe you could go and meet Krishna? Weren’t you very close?". She borrows some powa from the neighbour, which Sudama had told her was Krishna’s favorite food in childhood, so that her husband does not go to visit the great king empty-handed. Sudama sets off with the powa wrapped in a cloth bundle, tied to his waist.
Krishna sees him from the distance, from the palace balcony where he was enjoying the evening breeze with his consort Rukmini. This poor Brahmin in old clothes walking to the palace gates hesitantly, as if he feared being turned away. Krishna runs down with great excitement and rushes past surprised courtiers and guards, and embraces Sudama. While people watch in amazement, he makes Sudama sit on his throne, asks his wife to bring water, and washes his feet with great affection, like one does with an honored guest.
Overwhelmed, and surrounded by splendour, Sudama is embarrassed to offer his humble gift of powa to the mighty king. He is astonished when Krishna grabs at his bundle playfully, 'Hey, you have brought me something!', and then pounces on the poha greedily when Sudama offers it to him with great hesitation. Krishna is overjoyed, deeply touched that his old friend remembered.
"Sudama", he says, "the poorest of gifts given to me with love are dearer to me than the richest of gifts given without love."
All those who have fed me, with so much warmth, thank you so much. You have given me so much more than food.
What is your favorite memory of being fed, receiving food, from a friend or a stranger?
*Photo from Google Images
This is about receiving food, but not from a person. Many years ago, I was traveling alone in Mexico, and I embarked on foot from one town to another where there were no roads, only the beach along the edge of jungle. I had taken some fresh baked rolls for the trip, but i ran out of them on the 1st day. On the second day (of three), I was famished, and I went into the trees to see if I could find anything to eat, but there were only coconuts which I had no way to open. Dispirited, I tried one more time before it was too dark, and a fruit fell at my feet. I looked up and I could see no tree that it could have fallen from. I didn't recognize the fruit and didn't know if it was good to eat or not, but, I was hungry, so I ate it. It was so-o-o delicious! And all I would eat that day, but it sustained me. After I got to the town, I looked in all the markets, but I never have found the fruit again.
ReplyDeleteFrom my friend Joanne (http://ioannanezi.com):
ReplyDeleteCalcutta 1991: I was at Nizam's enjoying meat rolls. A family asked to sit with me, and we got talking - of course about whether I was enjoying India, and about food. I exclaimed over the rolls, then stupidly added "I've been eating very well in Cal, the only thing is, you can't really get Bengali food in restaurants". As I should have known, they immediately invited me to their place the next day. I said I'd love to but was travelling to Bhubhaneswar that day.
'Wait, what time is your train?" the husband said. 'Come, we'll take you straight to the station". How could I refuse? But there was an even greater surprise awaiting me: after the Bengali fish and rice, they put a beefsteak in front of me. "you're not likely to get this in a restaurant - and you've come to a Christian house'.
It was the best steak I've ever tasted. And the best hospitality: spontaneous and thoughtful. And was one of the things that left me with such a deep affection for Calcutta.
From Galina, who is from Irkutsk, Siberia, mother of Vlad Gerasimov, whom I wrote about (http://whiletheworldisgoingplaces.blogspot.in/2011/11/alice-in-wonder-land.html):
ReplyDelete"It was very cold in January 1981. I just delivered my third baby and I had some problems. I remained in the hospital for few days but my newborn baby was at home with dad and brother and sister. I felt so bad that time suffering with my physical pain and without my baby.
One day somebody knocked at the window and I saw through the iced glass of window, the face of my teacher. She brought something for me. It was chicken soup. She cooked it for me. I still now remember a taste of that soup not because it was very delicious indeed but because of her heart. She came to me on a very cold day and she brought a hot soup and warm heart.
We are still good friends who live now in different countries. She lives in Germany and she is over 75 now. All my life I kept our friendship and I am happy to have her as my friend."
Loved the post. Touching and truly a tribute. The memories I have personally is of a friend(college junior) who, one awful day, when I met with a terrible accident(shoulder dislocation) took a leave n cooked for me n fed me with her own hand. Priceless.
ReplyDeleteFrom Peter:
ReplyDeleteI'm truly touched by this, Asha. Searched for and found (no mean feat, I'm sure) a copy of the graphic story which I took back to the U.S. for my daughter. Unfortunately I don't live at a latitude that produces good mangoes, but my best memories of eating are from your house, the Horn of Plenty laid out on the table while we laughed all afternoon about Lord Cornwallis, rock and roll, and perils of falling coconuts.
This is really nice :-). It made me recollect this - I was in class 6 (guess in 1995 or so) and used to study in a residential school in Hyderabad. One day, all of a sudden we were taken for an educational movie by the school authorities. One section (each class had 3-4 sections) at a time. It so happened that by the time we returned the lunch break was over. The hostel was not in the same campus and everyday a bus used to take us to the hostel for lunch and get us back. That day I obviously missed it and I did not have any money with me also. I was the only hostel inmate in the class and so everyone else had their lunch boxes. And I would not ask anyone to share, so just sat in the corner of the class while everyone was eating. Just then our Maths teacher (remember her name - Manjula madam)looked at me and understood the situation. She then put the rice and curry she had in the box lid and gave it to me saying 'don't worry, i cook better than your hostel cook'. Of course it was yummy and the best part being it was something i love - brinjal curry.
ReplyDeleteI love south indian food especially idly and mendu wada. I remember Diwali of 2003 when my friend Vinodha invited me for breakfast. Her mom had come all the way from Chennai and had prepared delicious medu wada and sambar. It was so delicious and fed with so much of love that I had filled myslef to near full capacity and then topped it up with filter coffee. Thank you Vinodha and Aunty for inviting and feeding me so well. It was a very happy Diwali for me.
ReplyDeleteI was overwhelmed on reading this the first time.. and am overwhelmed now! I agree Asha.. the gift of food is most touching and often lingers in our consciousness no matter the years.
ReplyDeleteMany instances of being fed.. with so much love and care.. come to the mind. And it makes me so very happy to have had such lovely experiences :)
From a dear friend:
ReplyDeleteThayiru Saadam.
It's probably one of the most powerful memories of my childhood.
Thayiru saadam ( curd rice or yoghurt rice ) is a staple at Tamil Brahmin families. We swear by it! And lucky are the ones who ate it this way!
One of the ladies in the family would make a large bowlful. The children, hungry after a morning's play, would circle her. Hands washed, mouths dry and wanting.
The lady would dip her hand into the cool mix of rice and curds, made just thick enough for her to make a ball. A nice, round, oh so very edible ball!
She would then put that in the cupped hand of one of the children, who would then put a piece of vegetable or pickle on top of it. Before gulping it down in one shot, to the envy of those waiting!
Oh the memories of food. Etched so deep they are a part of me.