Cooking for myself


A few years ago I was the sole keeper of my two children. I kept them clothed, fed, alive. I also kept my husband fed for the most part. Since Sean is disinterested in food and only partakes nutrition to live and I live to eat, I took it upon myself to cook for the family. Also I decided to stay home to take care of our children. So cooking dinner fell upon me. The kids did not have a choice, they ate what I cooked. Now that they are older, they do not depend upon me any more. The daughter is a really good cook herself so she often makes her own food and sometimes ours as well. Ryan will eat my food only if he is tired from practice or the food is to his liking. He also makes his own food often. Sean eats what I make still but only if it is vegetarian affair without any vegetable in it. Yes, he is a strange vegetarian who is very limited in the types of vegetables that he eats.

I have finally learned to cook for myself. I have been freed of the responsibility of feeding anyone. So I cook the food of my choice without guilt. Sean does not love Bengali cuisine (he does not know what he is missing). Since I love him, I put his preferences over mine (there can be whole debate about this but my love language is feeding my loved ones) and learned to cook North Indian food – dal makhni, paneer bhurji etc, etc. When I cooked alu posto, Sean politely put it aside. He found kanch kolar kofta and dhoka r dalna too dry. So I gave up on those and cooked the dishes of his choice with great love. And I glowed when I saw my picky husband eating the food I cooked with relish. My children complained that I always catered to their father’s wishes when it comes to food.

Lately though, I have decided to focus on making what I love to eat. I scour the internet for recipes for macher matha diye dal, lau chingri, salmon er kalia…..

Today, on my day off, I cooked a shrimp dish just the way I like it. I put shrimp, thinly sliced onion, potatoes cut like French fries, turmeric, red chili powder, poppy seed paste, mango mustard (aam kashundi), salt and mustard oil in a pot. Added half cup of water and let the whole concoction cook in medium to low heat till potatoes were well cooked.

There were stray vegetables loitering around in the fridge – a small head of broccoli, carrots, red pepper. All those went into a skillet with some potatoes, sliced onions, turmeric, chilli powder and mustard oil. Chemistry and heat did their thing. The result was delicious.

Nobody ate any of it. But as I sat down to eat, the smell of mustard oil and the taste of poppy seeds took me back home – to my sunny City of Joy, to my summer afternoons, to my ma and baba.

My big declaration on Valentine’s day!


We were married for no more than 3 months. I was totally fresh off the boat in a completely new country trying to deal with all the newness compounded with culture shock as well as living with a brand new husband when my newly wed groom declared he needs to travel internationally for work. Although I was 26 years old, I had never lived alone in my entire life. Forget living alone, I did not even have a separate room in all of those 26 years. When I heard I was going to be alone in an apartment in the middle of a bustling American city where I knew no one, did not know how to drive, did not know the streets very well except a few, I had a panic attack. Anyway, he left. I survived. That became the central theme of our relationship. Sean would travel every month for at least one week, more often two. I got used to his travels so much so that all I wanted to know from him were the dates of his departure and arrival along with his flight details. The names of the places he went to seemed made up anyway – Ouagadougou, Bangui, Jonglei, Agadez, Huehuetenango! During all these comings and goings, we built a life, had 2 children and a dog. And I got high blood pressure from worrying about him. He traveled to Afghanistan during Taliban era, to Sri Lanka when the rebels tried to blow up the airport where he was waiting at the time to catch a flight home, to Indonesia and adjoining countries after Tsunami, to Liberia while Ebola was rampant, to Bhuj, India AND Haiti when the horrible earthquakes claimed thousands of lives. In Haiti, he was in the middle of his shower when the aftershock of earthquake happened, and he had to rush outside with a towel around his waist.

The children got used to dad’s travels, they were sad when he left and ecstatic when he returned. It was all that they knew. Sean’s travels fell into the natural rhythm of our lives together. I ran around taking the children to their practices, swim meets, after school activities and when I could not be in two places at once, I asked for help from friends. It took a village.

Sean was grounded literally since the beginning of the pandemic. He has not traveled since February 2020 and does not have any plans to travel in the near future till things settle down and/or we get vaccinated. This state of static is new for both of us and I wondered how it would be to have him home 24/7. After a phase of initial adjustments we got used to his constant presence, his loud, booming telephone calls, his obsession with exercising and walking. And his constant giving. The man is a giver. During normal times, when he was not traveling, he made sure he did double doses of helping in raising the children and doing more than his share of housework. When he was with us, he was completely with us. Even before leaving for his trips, he tried his best to make sure my life would be as comfortable as possible while he was away. There have been times when he landed at the airport after a 17 hour plane ride, dropped his bags at home and drove to a swim meet or went to drop a kid somewhere because I was some place else with the other one, or he came home after a long trip and cleaned up the house because I could not (or did not) get to it. This past year he proved yet again what a great house husband he is, constantly picking up after me, keeping my car full, driveway clean as well as doing regular grocery store runs along with swim practice drives for our son. I told him with 80% sincerity that I would have even written a book about him and named it The Perfect Husband if only he could make gourmet dinners. Giving, doing, is his love language and he pours his love over us. His love spills over from his immediate family to those around him, his community, his work family and his global family.

As I wrote before, having Sean home at a stretch has been a new experience for me in our 24 years of marriage and as I was contemplating how it has been to be in such close proximity with my traveling partner, I realized it has been like being draped over with love, care and comfort. During this sad, awful time of anxiety and frustration, he has been my source of optimism. His faith and hope have often lifted me from depths of despair. So my big declaration on this Valentine’s day is that I LIKE my partner very much on top of loving him. That is it. That is my big declaration on this day of love.