Hailing from the wheat basket of the nation, I like most of my compatriots, am increasingly possessive when it comes to food. And when the talk is about food, a Punjabi like myself does certainly take some staple items of our diet for granted. And so here I am, deeply bereaved in this ‘non apnapan, non pyar‘ wali and ‘kori‘ state of Delhi.
When I was leaving my house two Summers back to embark upon a voyage in this mammoth metropolitan city , little did I anticipate that the cause of my misery would be, not separation from my parents (I do miss you Mumma, but i’m a grown up girl now), but edible material and mind you, its not junk which I mean, for that is available in plethora like the Papa John’s Pizza which I only recently discovered but am herewith deprived of what has been called since time immemorial the National Breakfast of My Land – PARATHA!
Before any of my most revered reader calls me daft, for accusing Delhi to have a dearth of parathas, which is almost conspicuous and most readily available in all the nooks and corners of the national capital territory from the ‘Moolchand ke samne wala thela‘ to Punjabi by Nature, I’d just like to state in my defence that the Delhi of my reference is the one i’m exposed to, ie, the residence hall of the premier institute i’m a student of, where I have been deprived, denied and devoid of the “whole wheat flat bread” as the wikipedia describes it.
If my memory doesn’t disappoint me as much my hostel does, I can see the good old days when Mumma would make her favourite parauthi if she found nothing in the kitchen. And come the special Sunday morning, it would be Aaloo ka paratha for Aaru, pyaz wala for me and mooli/gobhi for Mom-Dad, and every punjabi bacha would vouch that his/her Mumma made the best ones in the world. I know i’m being pretty Punjab chauvinistic in making repeated usage of the state’s name, but that’s the truth, i’m missing the Punjab inside me, my home , my food. Only I know how I have been surviving on this formality sake breakfast of bread toast ever since I stepped in here. Oh you know what, recently I learnt that our hostel does provide paratha- some one Sunday a month, when i’m mostly out – now isn’t that making a mockery out of a Punjabi?
Nevertheless, as every cloud has a silver lining, I found some respite today morning, when some friends treated me to mouth watering home made parathas , to whom I shall be indebted indefinitely. All said and done, and with the paratha having quenched my thirsty insides, I guess I can go a fortnight without cribbing.
Good night !