To understand people, we need to know what they eat! While words and gestures allow us to connect, it’s by sharing food that we fall in love with one another. Two years ago, my job led me to Sonada, a small hill station in the Darjeeling hills. Whenever I find myself in a new place, I try to explore its culinary offerings. I attempt to connect with an unfamiliar place through its foods and drinks. During my stay in Sonada, I had the opportunity to try a dish of the Nepali community — Gundruk. Being from the northeastern region, Assam, I have a particular fondness for fermented foods, and Gundruk instantly won me over. This traditional dish is prepared from fermented leafy vegetables and is widely enjoyed by the Gurkhas. When Gundruk was first offered to me, the flavour and sourness of the dish, and the hospitality around me instantly reminded me of something close to my heart — my home.
We carry memories along with the food we eat. It reminds us of the tastes we developed while growing up with our families, the taste of affection and comfort we remember while sharing food with our loved ones. It carries the stories of the struggles to put food on our table. It reminds us of the long stories of how our ancestors prepared food to survive with limited means from their surroundings. The stories of how our ancestors passed on the unique recipes from one generation to another with love, care and affection. Food serves as a portal into the intricate labyrinth of our memories.
In the present political scenario of hatred and conflicts, it might sound strange or idealistic, but I firmly believe that to love and respect a particular culture and its people, we need to love and respect their food. Food and drinks are the ways to get to know each other. To strengthen the bond of love with people, we need to get to know them. To know someone, we need to have an open heart, a bit of empathy, and a bit more time to share and taste each other’s foods. We never forget the taste of food, love, and the stories of sharing our food. Sometimes, a particular taste, aroma, or image may trigger something within us, evoking a poignant, bittersweet sensation, much like forgotten love.
My friends from Assam asked, “Did you try something new in the Darjeeling Hills?” I enthusiastically responded, “Yes, I tried Gundruk.” Their curiosity piqued, they enquired, “Did you like it? How does it taste?” My response was simple, “Oh, yes! I enjoyed it...”
I didn’t tell my friends how it tasted, but it tasted just like love.
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