That loss and living can be so equally bound together is heart breaking and affirming. This is such a moving piece of writing about memory, place and food.
I was born in Calcutta almost a lifetime ago and spent a lot of time by our cook’s side watching him grind spices on the huge flat stone, munching a fresh chapatti I had no right to. This evoked all that delicious contentment, with huge grief at the inhumanity of the persecution in Kashmir - persecution which is fomented still for political ends.
The author has measured her memories in the mortar and pestled them into words. And we are thankful for this beautiful concoction. A comfort meal, it is.
That loss and living can be so equally bound together is heart breaking and affirming. This is such a moving piece of writing about memory, place and food.
I'm so pleased you saw this - I was going to send it to you!
What an interesting read. Thank you
Thank you.
I was born in Calcutta almost a lifetime ago and spent a lot of time by our cook’s side watching him grind spices on the huge flat stone, munching a fresh chapatti I had no right to. This evoked all that delicious contentment, with huge grief at the inhumanity of the persecution in Kashmir - persecution which is fomented still for political ends.
Beautiful. But also makes me sad and angry on behalf of the people of Kashmir.
This writing — how piercing and poetic. Thank you for the revelation and the recipe, Uzma.
Beautifully written… very moving.
The author has measured her memories in the mortar and pestled them into words. And we are thankful for this beautiful concoction. A comfort meal, it is.
Makes one want to brew a cup of coffee or tea and sit a time with the author