Inspirational Short Stories — The Perfect Dal
Inspirational Short Stories — The Perfect Dal
On the 13th day of September I was summoned by my mother. It had been about a month since I have seen her last, so time with her was past due and she was persistent that I come. The last few days of Indian summer were upon us. It made for a great setting to partake in great conversation while enjoying the company of the earthly blue sky and subtle heat from the rays of our sun. I thought it would be interesting to learn some of my mother’s signature dishes. She is an exceptional cook and after my father and she parted ways a few years ago, her cooking I missed dearly. A mother’s hand in the kitchen has the ability to let food skip the stomach and touch the heart and invigorate the soul…well I thought so anyway.
I have always been particularly interested in food. My love for cooking started when I was younger as I would watch my father present food to us with extreme zealousness. Each dish, no matter how simple or elaborate had to be majestically and delicately plated so to appease the eye as well as the stomach. Growing up my mother primarily cooked and her food was consistently delicious. My grandmother had the same knack for cooking and I think many mothers of East Indian descent carry this amazing gift that goes overlooked time and time again. I decided not to overlook this and am now trying to learn everything my mother knows about Indian Food.
The day prior I asked my mother to teach me how to make the perfect dal. For those who are not privy with the cuisine of the east, dal (Hindi for lentils, and the also the name of the dish) is a dish made with lentils as the main ingredient and serves as a quintessential dish of many Indian households. It was important for her to teach me this for a few reasons. First, I am a bachelor living in the city so cooking is both needed for sustenance and survival, but more importantly it makes me look more desirable to the lady folk..haha.
It was a Saturday when I visited my mother. She lives in an apartment complex that reminded me of the many apartments my family grew up around during my teen years. The food of different cultures permeated the air. Latin, Indian, and R&B music could be heard, and a few domestic disputes carried on. There is a certain life that was present that you just don’t find in the Burbs. Perhaps it is why I live in similar surroundings in San Francisco today. As I walked in, to my surprise my mother had started the prep work and carefully measured out the ingredients of the meal that was to take place. The dish called for lentils, tomatoes, cilantro, carrots, broccoli, spinach, cauliflower, turmeric, mustard seeds, cumin, fenugreek seeds, ginger, salt, pepper, tamarind, onions, garlic, olive oil, chilies, and curry leaves. There are two main functions that have to be performed. One was the boiling of the lentils with most of the ingredients, and the second portion was that you had to “choko” (Hindi word meaning sauté) a few of the spices, onions and garlic together. This is probably the most important step because it adds flavor to the dish. My mom went through the initial process which consisted of washing the dal with cold water to clean out the dirt. This process is similar to how you clean rice to get out excess starch and dirt. As her beautiful hands slowly caressed the dal, I was reminded by of all the times when she wiped my tears, put bandages on my wounds, slapped me when I was bad, and tucked me in at night. I have an uncanny memory from the past which has been a blessing and a curse, but in this particular case it was a good thing. I am reminded of a quote from the late and great Bob Hope that is appropriate for this past event in time:
“When we recall the past, we find that it is the simplest things — not the great occasions — that in retrospect give off the greatest glow of happiness. “
As we started cooking the dal I had a pen and paper ready. My meticulous nature would have me hard pressed if I did not have written record of exactly how to make this dish. So we started cooking and something happened that left me a little uneasy and upset. My mother forgot certain things and started adding different measurements of spices then what was planned. She forgot certain ingredients and started to pull them out of the fridge. She started changing the temperature constantly and eventually the kitchen seemed as if Metallica was playing the philharmonic. It was organized chaos at best. I was writing all this down, but had to constantly cross certain parts out, and add others as she was changing. I was doing so much of this that I eventually put my pen down and said, “Fuck it. Let me just watch.” I said this in the nicest way possible, I promise..lol. That’s when my mom said:
“Beta (term of endearment), I don’t think I have ever made dal the same way twice. Cooking is always something that you have to put action towards. There is no set way to make the perfect dal. Some days I will need more salt, and other days I will need more chilies . It’s never the same, but by some miracle, the food always turns out great. Cooking is a constant labor of love that requires you to be engaged. As long as you have the ingredients, your process of making the dish will always change. As long as you cook with Love it will turn out alright. I promise.”
Her voice was always gentle, fragrant of spring flowers, and calming. It was reassuring even though I had nothing to be assured of. It put me at ease. When we sat down to eat, the dal tasted amazing. Shortly after eating I realized I had spent almost the whole day with her, and now had to part ways. I was meeting my friend Asmaa, and her baby daughter in the area.
At the very moment I left her apartment, one of my favorite songs started blasting from my mother’s next door neighbors. My mom said, “it doesn’t bother me son, they play Jazz and slow music, and none of that rap .” I chuckled, gave her a kiss, and brought her in for a big hug. I could feel her left ear against my heart. It started to beat louder. I then proceeded to leave. I can still hear the song today:
The 5 Stair steps took me back — Ooh-oo child. Things are gonna get easier. Ooh-oo child. Things’ll get brighter. Ooh-oo child. Things are gonna get easier. Ooh-oo child. Things’ll get brighter. Some day, yeah. We’ll get it together and we’ll get it all done. Some day. When your head is much lighter. Some day, yeah. We’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun. Some day. When the world is much brighter. If you wish to here this beautiful song click here
As I left, I felt this song was for my mother as much as it was for me. While walking away from her, I turned my head so I can see her from my peripheral vision. She waited till I was no longer in site before closing the door. A tear gently graced my cheek and I looked at the blue sky, closed my eyes for a little while before heading to my car. I miss her.
When my folks split up it was hard, and I could not see any good coming from it, but looking at it now I see only good things. My time with my mother is so precious that when we do see each other we only have time for laughs, love, and all good things. What if all our encounters with people were like this?
The next day I was in deep contemplation and started thinking introspectively about my day with my mother. I looked at our day as parable for life. I think many times as people we have a view of how our life should be. We plan when we will retire, what our children will be, finding our passion, when we will have kids, will love ever find me, etc?
I feel that the roadmap of life we set for ourselves can be to our detriment because if it doesn’t go to plan we might become upset and cause stress and worry. Similar to how my mother was adding ingredients and changing the cooking steps, our life’s plan will continuously change and there is no set formula to how things will end up, but I believe the universe has an esoteric ability to put things into divine order. Eventually things will taste great. It is important to put action to life, and strive for what you want, but understanding that life will take you on a path that might seem rocky and at times downright confusing is a part of allowing yourself to grow and also to build character. Enjoy the process of life; enjoy the treachery of adding different ingredients into life. At times too much ginger, and maybe at times not using as much turmeric will only make the end result better. Allow yourself free range and accept setbacks as they come because when all said and done, everything will turn alright.
Lao Tzu said it best, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
At times we are too concerned about the destination of where life will take us that we take away from the actual journey. Each step to our goal is crucial. If my mom wasn’t meticulous in her cooking process, if she did not constantly taste the dal and make changes, it would not turn out as good as it did. Each step was just as important as the last, and she allowed each step the attention it deserved.
Try not to be resistant to change, or too set in your ways because the plans that lead up to your destination will change. The more accepting you are to change, the easier and more fruitful life will become. I am not the same person as I was yesterday. Biologically, spiritually, mentally, and physically we are constantly changing. It is important to evolve into a better self. Don’t concern yourself with others as a basis of comparison. In life we each have to make our own dal, and each of us have our own path. Learn from others and tailor your journey so it is best suited for your destination. I would like to leave you with an old ancient proverb.
“There is nothing noble about being superior to some other man. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self.”
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Written by Anand Swamy