Today was one of THOSE days. It started off with promise but quickly took unwanted turns. Meetings ran over, deadlines loomed, and unforeseen issues cropped up, throwing my meticulously planned schedule into chaos. By mid-afternoon, I realized I hadn’t met a single goal I’d set for the day.
'Paan ban ban ke mirii jaan kahaan jaate hain Ye mire qatl ke saamaan kahaan jaate hain,' wrote Zaheer Dehelvi about the ubiquitous Betel leaf. 'The ritual of sending paan, of the women of the household making paan for guests, and how offering paan was once a sign of hospitality ,just as not sending paan was a slight and an offence.'
Wrapped in the warmth of a fuzzy sweater and cradling a cup of hot chocolate, my annual tradition of revisiting "Holidate" and the timeless "Gift of the Magi" felt incomplete without a fresh narrative. This year, a craving for something raw, pure, and authentically real led me to seek a fresh plot.
Picture a young girl, wide-eyed and eager, as she listens to her grandmother recount the ancient tales of kings and exotic ingredients. With each word flavours come alive, tantalizing her imagination. This five-year-old was me with adorable pigtails and insatiable curiosity. The journey of my love for food was paved by enchanting storybooks, rhythmic rhymes, and cozy bedtime stories. These stories always unfolded leaving an indelible mark on my budding palate.
