Discovering my Superhero
"Not Sambhar again. Oh, Amma but why? You always keep making things that only Chettan likes. Why are you so partial? ". I wailed at my mother that day. Yes, she had prepared a dish that even I liked, but at the nasty moment, all that I cared about was how she kept making Sambhar thrice a week. Right, so we are South Indians, but hey, there is a limit to this right? Four different dishes were prepared and kept in front of my brother and me. It consisted of dishes that we mutually and individually liked. My mother smiled silently and kept mum. I continued to wail, about how she had all the time but did nothing. She chose to ignore those tears as she walked ahead to do her other chores. ~ The scene flashed before my eye. It was crystal clear on my mind as I paced from one end of the kitchen to the other. I was 16 and my Grandmother had decided that it was high time I learned to manage the kitchen on my own. In her own words to my mother, "2 years and this girl will j...