Great news everyone! I got promoted! Not at my workplace; I don’t see any chance of that happening in the foreseeable future. However, I have definitely climbed one more step up the domestic ladder.
It happened about two months back when one of my flat mates, also the head chef of the house, had to leave the country on an assignment, leaving me, the naive and inexperienced sous chef, at the mercy of my rudimentary culinary skills. I wouldn’t deny that I was thoroughly excited by the thought of undertaking this Herculean task in the beginning. I had finally gotten a chance to test my cooking skills and also to appease my forever nagging mother and grandmother who still consider decent cooking skills as a prerequisite for a girl to get married. I have spent many an hour listening to my granny rant about all the things that well cultured wives and bahus are supposed to do. “The groom’s family will run away. No one will marry you. You don’t even know how to cook!”, she says. God knows how much I loath these conversations. Anyway, I willingly donned the apron and there I was- the new Master Chef of the house. 🙂
Everything was fine in the beginning; I started discharging my duties with the required gusto. I experimented with new dishes and to my great surprise and also everyone else’s, they were quite palatable. Of course, I made simple dishes in the beginning. Delighted by the knowledge that the food I prepared was fit for human consumption, I was convinced that I was a cook worth my salt. However, as it turned out, my excitement was short-lived. With each passing day I became more and more impatient and clumsy. The Master Chef’s Kitchen was soon transformed into Hell’s Kitchen. 😦
Now, I am at the verge of a nervous break down. All the veggies seem to take an eternity to get cooked and that irritates me immensely. Whenever I leave the vegetables partially cooked, my domestic help gives me a sardonic smile (“Madamji, ye aap kya kar rahi hain”) and I smile back ( “Just mind your own business“). Moreover, I keep burning my fingers off and on. On one occasion I managed to set my hair on fire. I am absolutely sure that if my lack of culinary skills doesn’t scare the groom’s family away, the scars on my hands and fingers definitely will. I have resorted to making khichdi on a daily basis now, not something that I relish but it does keeps me alive.
I am desperately waiting for my flat mate to return and take this burden off my back. Cooking is not my cup of tea. I am cut out for menial tasks such as stirring the gravy, applying ghee to the rotis, garnishing the dishes with coriander leaves etc. And as far as my marriage is concerned, why can’t I find a groom who knows how to cook? After all, there are quite a few cute looking guys who take part in cooking competitions which are aired on the television 😉 Aren’t there? 🙂