I claim to be a good cook. I indulge in this passion occasionally. But when I do, I will also invite few friends so that I can show-off my culinary skills. I select some exquisite dishes from the collection of cookery books that my wife maintains. I will then ask my wife to get all the ingredients and get the maid to do all the cleaning, cutting and chopping. Then later in the afternoon after a nice nap, I will land up in the kitchen to commence my artistic composition of various ingredients to an exquisite rhapsody! At every point I will have my wife and the maid extending various implements to assist my operation like the nursing staff in an operation theatre. After the various concoctions find their way to the microwave, baking oven, refrigerator (as the case may be) I will leave it to the minions to take them at prescribed time period and present them for the consumption of the invited guests. Of course it is the job of the maid to remove all dishes and clean-up. I will almost fill the conversation during the dinner with the art that goes behind each of the dishes. What an excitement for me!
On the other hand I remember my Mom’s cooking. We had no gas supply and no gadgets like microwave, cooking range etc. Five of us were in colleges/ schools. One in medical college, two in Engineering Colleges, another one in regular college and the other in school. From breakfast, to packed lunch to evening snacks and the sumptuous dinner; all fresh from the kitchen, day in and day out, in addition to the teaching the kids, mending cows , and other chores of household.
My cooking is an occasional event, an aberration; primarily for my excitement and glory and not to help anybody’s hunger. Whereas my Mom’s cooking was meant to ensure that none of us went hungry. No ceremony. Just rigorous execution, just-in-time management of inventory, tight planning of cash flows, total customer satisfaction with outstanding social networks.
Unfortunately, it is the heroism that often gets recognised and not persistence and perseverance.
I remember the story narrated by an IAS officer about his tenure as the district collector of an inflammable district which often flared up at times of religious festivities. He used to take enormous efforts to get the occasion go without any incidence. There was a neighbouring district manned by his colleague, which also had similar explosive settings. The major difference used to be that at least once in a year there used to be a conflagration that hit the headlines which the collector had to manage with great difficulty. The credit naturally went to the second officer and very few could see the difference made by first one.
This happens in many private sector organisations too. The guy who solves a problem (which is often created by the same fellow) gets all the credit; but the guy who worked hard to prevent problems day- in and day-out and worked to bring about continuous improvements is seldom noticed. The credits and the bonus to the former, naturally encouraging high-profile project launches and other short-term strategies. We saw the impact of this short-termism in the meltdown of global financial markets.
What we need for sustained progress more is the discipline of my mother’s cooking (for that matter most mothers) than my heroism in cooking. As the proverb goes “success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration”.
I too take immense pride in singing homilies of my industrious enterprise of cooking my own food every night, to my contemporaries; driven more by unavailability of any charitable caterer to serve at those punishing hours or a benevolent wife waiting to serve dinner with typical effeminate sympathy after a day in battle either.
ReplyDeleteI would renounce my inhibitions to admit that the daily ordeal dutifully restores my humility rather dispassionately by compelling me to dive in that kitchen sink, stinking furiously or to surrender to that sticky mop to sanctify my kitchen from all my culinary sins.
Nevertheless, to put in context of my mother’s kitchen, of late I stumbled across a site on Tai-Chi that deliberated on the philosophy of enjoying every moment intensely just by being aware of every flowing moment as a beholder, more so than as a participant (or a victim, in my case). The idea had been particularly insightful when, out of serendipity rather than intent-full contemplation, the image of my mothers face surfaced to my mind, glowing with deep satisfaction after she served us delicious appetite inducing simple food.
The apparently disconnected random thoughts, in conjunction actually helped me to surmise two tangible thought processes after a brief introspection.
The first one constitutes the idea of “how finished work looks like”. I could recall my mother’s rather strict and compulsive obsession to tidy off the kitchen comprehensively of the days refuse before she emerged from the kitchen with food.
The second one of pleasure in subtle vicissitudes of daily occupation than fiercely chasing a distant idea of materialistic gluttony.
Effectively this has actually helped me, rather tangibly in introducing me to the world of pleasure in placidity of witnessing something as elementary as a flowing kitchen tap and seeking immense satisfaction even by boiling a bowl of milk and toasting two loaves of bread, only after I ensure that I “finish” my work by tidying my kitchen , never mind if its 2 A.M by the clock on a typical accountants day after quarterly closing.