Of Comfort, Love, And Care – The First Meal Back Home

If you were to draw Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs at the time of the first hunter-gatherers foraging for leaves, berries, and small animals, you’d probably only have one layer – the physiological needs of food and shelter. With time, layers started piling up, and human beings began needing something more for sustenance – clothes, emotional attachment, self-actualisation, Wi-Fi, and Netflix. But food stayed where it was – right at the base of it all.

How the population in 2018 sees food stands in stark contrast to how the hunter-gatherers saw it. Over the course of history, the concept of food has gone from being a necessity for survival to an expression of emotion. You see, what’s on the plate is no longer about the nutrients, or the right measurements, or the culinary prowess of the person preparing it. It is, at a deeper level, the highest expression of love and care, and the most natural form of self-indulgence. Maybe the reason millennials love branding themselves “foodies” in their Instagram bios is that they understand more than any generation before them, that as long as one’s tummy is happy, they are. As the adage goes: the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach (calm down there, Hannibal Lecter).

And there is no greater display of love than your mother (or father) serving you the first meal at home, after a semester in college. It’s that one meal that can undo a semester’s worth of mental and physical trauma caused by the Food Court, or the habit of skipping meals. This meal reminds you that somewhere, you are free to ask for – rather, demand – another serving of gravy. That someone cares if your rotis are soft and if your daal is viscous enough to stick to them. And it symbolises generosity and affection judging by the inch-thick layer of oil floating on your curry, or the fat dripping off your naan. The first meal, prepared with a day-long planning by our dearest mothers, is usually at request conveyed by us through the phone a day prior. Though, by now my mother needn’t ask – it’s always paratha and chicken in white curry. Always.

The aforementioned paratha with chicken in white curry. EOT got nothing on this.

Beyond being a sign of love, the first meal stands as a reminder of our roots. This is what my Gujarati friend has to say about her first meal at home:
“I invariably have thepla with aloo ki ras wali sabji as my first meal. Khichdi and kadhi along with it. And of course, mangoes and the signature summery keri ka achar. Oh, and masala chaas! It is the simplest possible combination of things, and yet I feel the most satisfied after consuming it. Maybe because of the opportunity to enjoy it comes only once every four months.”

“When I come back home I have to have ghee rice, chicken curry with the oil floating on top, along with curds and a slice of mango. Yes, I know mango and chicken, and rice and curd is a weird combo!” says another friend, just proving that it’s also about the comfort and the ability to eat whatever you want, and however you want it. And unlike college, you won’t sleep hungry because you have to choose between Saturday night at Remix and dinner for two days.

As the summer grows hotter, we settle into the familiarity of our homes or head out for internships, and make the most of mom’s spaghetti because there can never be anything like it. Eat your favourite dishes, and whatever you can’t find in Manipal. Because a few weeks later, you’ll only be left with fond memories of the meal at home before you travel back to your second home to feed off two-minute noodles for the latter half of every month.