“We are all gifts to each other's lives, against all odds”!

Seema cringed on hearing these words repeatedly from her grandmother who sat on that easy chair on the terrace, celebrating the cold winter morning, sunbathing her fragile body from every angle, while munching on those potato papads. 

Seema quietly ran downstairs to escape that long lecture right in the morning.

“What? Are you going to be a bawarchi in life?” 

Her mother screamed at her from the kitchen door with the rolling pin in her hand.

Her life has always been a dead-end path!

It has been next to impossible to make her mother understand that the Culinary arts of food preparation where food wasn’t just fuel but a form of sensitive subtle artwork; passion that one is born with.

It is self-expression with heightened sensitivity to sensory experiences.

She could not dare to say it was a ‘professional kitchen’ to her mother, who knew only of a home kitchen where women were meant to work for the household. Seema always found it difficult to understand her mother's stubbornness.

Her mother Radharani had never known of anything other than the culture where women being so naturally nurturing and tender were meant to meet the household chores, that is their purpose in life. 

She grew up in a small village called Gangaganj near the small town of Krishnanagar in Pachmarhi, a hill station in the Satpura Range. Radharani could barely study till class 6, then she was forced to stay back home and take care of her 5 siblings, cook and clean as well.

Radharani lived a life, in the colours she chose for herself and disliked the colours being mixed up, so she lived with her boundaries supporting her idiosyncrasies, ever since childhood.

Being aware of her mother’s upbringing; Seema had a very soft corner for her and she respected her journey through hard times in childhood, despite being so stubborn in her approach today.

Getting her mother's approval would mean landing on the moon without a spacesuit. 

Her father would always carry the spacesuit to support his little angel! 

She knew she would always have his support. 

Her father, Mr Rajan was popularly known as an academic wizard! 

While being a quiet person, always immersed in his books; he was a walking talking solution to many others but his wife. 

Since the day his daughter arrived in his world, his life changed manifold. He had immense faith and respect for her choices and applauded her determination to stand by them; reflecting in her several actions throughout her childhood and sowing the seeds of the unfailing source of reassurance.

His profound ability to be a silent observer during these harsh storms; held the sail tightly and allowed the storm to pass by. 

Today he seemed to have lost his battle even before she became visible on the battlefield!

Seema grew up in a patriarchal society where women had limited space to claim as their field of mastery, unlike men. It was taken for granted that the grandmother, mother, sisters, wife and daughters were supposed to be part of the kitchen, the one they were born or married into.

It was strange that even as a child, Seema couldn't explain herself to her mother. Her father was her bestie, with whom she shared her good-bad-ugly world that sustained through her beliefs, perceptions, ideas, concepts, thoughts and emotions.

It was beyond Seema’s capacity to help them comprehend this rich tapestry of aromas, tastes, textures, colours and the exotic experiences it brought into her life, enriching every moment.

Differentiating with the image of a bawarchi from a Chef! 

Passed on through the DNA of generations after generations in the times immemorial; the archaic rhetoric of “women belong to the kitchen or women are meant to be indoors” has been kept alive in the universal memory!

There were dark clouds every morning that thundered throughout the day and desperately waited for the outpour when her father returned from work. The showers drenched everyone including the walls that witnessed many tsunamis in the past 22 years of Seema's presence on the planet Earth.

Otherwise, it was a quiet house in the Saibaba Colony.

She would never give up because “great things take time,” her father would drop these words too often for her to forget.

In the 1980s it was unheard of, for a woman to survive in a profession that was a man’s domain. None could give a satisfactory answer to a man not cooking at home but waiting upon his wife to please his belly while seriously taking over the professional kitchen that pays his bills.

Nothing could stop Seema from dreaming of seeing herself in a chef's white double-breasted coat with an apron, pants and that traditional tall chef hat, the toque Blanche.

Those ever-busy tables arranged for frying, roasting, baking, boiling, or brewing; kept the burners active all day and night.

Here every moment would deliver creativity at its best.

She would be the first batch to pass out in 1983 in the three-year diploma course in hospitality education. An inflated pride to make a place for herself, where men dominated and the women were left behind bars to dare to dream. 

Seema the wildflower was so excited and delirious!

Ever enthusiastic Seema kept herself abreast with the uproar in the rising feminine power in the world. 

She grew up sneaking into her aunt’s room to watch The Galloping Gourmet, the old cooking show of the 60s by Englishman Grham Kerr. 

She had been admiring Tarla Dalal since childhood, who made a place for herself, believed in herself and never looked back!

Another important contributor to the food industry, Achaya’s work gifted the world the historic dictionary of Indian food from the past generations and how the cuisines changed over time with different rulers and invaders’ influences. 

Such motivations were enough to keep the ignition on, this fighter plane was roaring to fly higher and higher!

Ruby, a very dear friend of Seema, had been bitten by this passion of being a chef; sailing in the same boat struggling to dodge the several brickbats from her family as well and found solace under the wings of Seema’s determination to reach the destination. 

Arguments surfaced just to brush off the ever-rising fear in the hostile environment they breathed in, ensuring they were on the right track. 

Ruby woefully asked, “Why are women not being seen where men have chosen to be, the same women who have always known this culinary art from birth?”

Ruby lowered her voice and spoke as if none other should hear of her fears, “ Are we on the right track? We are fighting our parents, family and friends in this gender-based society. It's a maze where there doesn't seem to be any other way out! My brother, a Marriott chef, was cribbing about the long hours with little free time and that stressful space that led to chef burnout, quite often.

Seema jumped off her chair and shook her body from head to toe, screaming out loud unabashedly. 

Releasing those tightening nerves, she gently and slowly worked on her breathing, calming down knowing that the last bit of her little fingernail could be chewed up to give her that little comfort in this deliriously living life-like combat; so alive and unpredictable with absolutely no control at all! 

She had walked a long way and was not ready to be lost in the maze she was in! 

Her creative endeavours, thinking out of the box, knew nothing but to find a way out and embrace novelty at every crossroad!

Being self-driven and determined, Seema said, “I take great pride in being fond of cooking delicious food in my home kitchen as well as taking it forward to a professional kitchen, whatever challenges come my way, I have kept only this path open and shall continue walking it till I meet the destination.” 

The destination did not stop at being a Chef but to owning a restaurant of her own!

Ruby cringed and pointed stating, “Hey! I am aware of the long hours, gruelling physical conditions in most places with being grilled for 14-15 hours at a stretch with limited free time…!”

Seema cut her off midway and snapped, “That Rewards, endurance and performance!

What could stop Seema?

The day had finally arrived!

Seema never felt so sure of herself!

IHM, Institute of Hotel Management-Lucknow!

She found that she was with two other females working amongst all-male chefs. The misogyny made working on the frontline a hostile place for women in those days.

As she was walking out of that great building, she heard her grandmother again. She thanked her mother and all those who were a deterrent to her dream being fulfilled and for being the drive to achieve - “We are all gifts to each other's lives against all odds”!

Seema was overwhelmed that day, it was all worth the fight; she knew to move past the fears, she had to leap, wings would just come by! 

That night she rhymed a few lines in her journal!

I heard a whisper in the dark

A whiff of freshness in the air

All telling me

Walking miles and miles

There is a harmony in the air

Singing the Song of Life

In aloneness I find myself…