This morning, a dear friend from my kindergarten days shared a "touchy tell" with me; a story that perfectly captures the rhythm of life through the lens of a kitchen.
She remembered how, until the ninth standard, her family relied on the manual stone set and the traditional mortar and pestle. Then, a new member joined the house: the electric mixer. It came with its own "family": a base, jars of various sizes, specialized blades, and a soft spatula. She embraced this new buddy immediately, and as she grew, the mixer grew with her.
Over the years, various versions of the mixer passed through her kitchen. As kids arrived, in-laws moved in, and maids came and went, the demands were endless. The jars kept increasing in size to match the needs of a growing household. She often thanked God for such a wise companion that stood by her through every step of Indian cooking.
Now, she realizes her journey followed a perfect bell curve. When she first started using the tool, the most useful jar was the "chutney jar", the smallest fellow of the family. Today, she has returned to that same starting point. With her children married and settled in their own nests, she is the only one left cooking for herself.
It is a poignant reality. Because she still loves the fragrance of spices and the joy of the kitchen, she finds herself constantly conversing with her tiny, helpful buddy. Whenever she takes out that chutney jar, she narrates stories to him. She tells him about his prior generations, about the many different mixers she used throughout the years, when they arrived, and how the larger jars once dominated the counter.
Through her eyes, I saw that size matters a lot, but sometimes, the smallest size is finally enough.
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