From being a regular tantrum-thrower at the dinner table, a fussy eater and the ‘I want only bhindi in my tiffin’ rule-maker to ‘lets experiment something with karela’, I’ve come a long way.
Much to my mother’s chagrin, this gradual change started showing in me only when I started living in a hostel and had to make do with whatever piece of half-cooked unnamed vegetable that made it to my plate. I was never easy on her.
Added to that, post-marriage, there was this honest desire to be polite to my mom-in-law’s culinary creations and gulp them down with a smile. Fortunately, she got the cue sometimes and only gently prodded me to taste something before rejecting it.
Call it bowing down to pressure or resigning myself to the situation, looking back, I don’t feel sorry for any of it. If anything, in a way I feel this food euphemism accentuates the fact that this change depicts something far deeper than a shift in my taste buds.
It is all about acceptance – acceptance of the fact that karela is bitter, but that is its characteristic. No matter how much we try to mask it with other flavours the bitterness will never go away completely. This isn’t reason enough to hate it. It is what it is.
It isn’t limited to this one thing anyway. With age and experience, we develop certain maturity and become slightly tolerant of other people. (Kind request: Please take the tolerant word only in this context). We tend to come to terms with the fact that they might be different from us and that doesn’t make them wrong.
Me, I guess I’m tolerant to the extent that I do not question people on personal matters like their choice of religion, their political views, their inclination towards any culture etc. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. If I don’t agree with them and them with me, we can still be respectful towards each other. That’s the least we can do.
What are your feelings about this? Are you tolerant?