My aunt found herself in alien territory on the other side of the matrimonial fence.
She was yet to acquaint herself with the ways of the in-laws, and to add to that the ways of the Indian army. It wasn’t going to be easy and whoever said it was, was obviously, the greatest fence sitter of all time!
Life as an army officer’s wife, she soon realized, was tough but rewarding as well. The numerous parties and ‘call-ons’ ensured she had a hectic social life. When there was’nt a party to go to, the party usually came home! She found herself cooking for a platoon of young officers who had yet to find their lady loves. They admired and respected her for her culinary prowess. They loved every little morsel that she dished out but then again these were guys who could devour an armoured tank with a bit of salt and lime! Anyone who has cooked for young army officers could tell you that. Life was good but there was something amiss.
Her culinary virtuosity paled when it came to pleasing my uncle’s palate. She always fell short of his mother’s cooking. The varan, bhat, kap, chutney, amti and phulka were all good but there was always that something that did not merit a hundred percent.
Ten years into their marriage as they sat down for dinner, one evening, her hand trembled as she poured the toop (ghee) on the hot bhat. She watched carefully as uncle had his first spoonful. That morning, she had forgotten the toop on the stove when she went for her bath. The bottom had burnt, and she knew that.
He tasted the delicate mix of hot rice, amti and toop, looked her in the eyes and said “Now you’ve got it right! That’s what I’m talkin about!”
It was a night to remember, he took her out for ice cream and a movie. Little did she know that the deep nutty flavour of burnt toop would win her the ten year war.
