Khichdi Tales: Food & Friendship

Back to Reality

It was post-covid, 2022 when we were called back to work from office. I was an introvert. Talk less, focused on work. Being home the past two years had made it more difficult to gel with people in person. I soon realized that meeting people at office was not as difficult as I presumed, maybe because we were already in touch virtually.

The office hummed with a warmth I hadn't expected. Faces that were once just pixels on a screen now smiled with genuine welcome. The distance I had feared melted away in small conversations by the coffee machine, in shared sighs over Monday meetings.

It was a friendly culture at work. We made great friends. Colleagues took flats together when they moved to this new city, creating little islands of familiarity in this sea of newness.

Three of our colleagues lived together near office. We made friends, I don't remember how, but we made really good friends. Those people have been the primary Bangalore gang today, my found family in a city of strangers.

The Badminton Brigade

From helping each other to playing badminton to parties, our friendship grew in the spaces between work hours. We used to book a badminton court in the same area. After office, we frequently went for a game.

The sound of shuttlecocks hitting rackets became the heartbeat of our evenings. Competitive rallies dissolved into fits of laughter, sweat soaked shirts and glowing faces under court lights. There was something honest about friendship formed through play, no pretense, just joy, effort and shared exhaustion.

The proximity of their flat turned it into our unofficial hangout spot. Casual evenings spent laughing over silly office stories transformed into treasured rituals. The apartment became our sanctuary, where tired smiles became genuine laughter.

Cooking and Eating Together

Cooking together became one of our favorite activities. I know a bit of cooking, and khichdi was my goto meal. Usually people don't like khichdi "the food of a patient" they'd tease, eyes crinkling with mischief.

I made it in their home, put some rice, dal, spices, vegetables and love. My hands moved with a certainty I rarely felt in other aspects of life. The kitchen filled with aromatic promises as the pot simmered gently.

The khichdi!!! was not quite traditional khichdi, but floating somewhere between pulao, tehri and khichdi. It emerged from the pot with an aroma so enticing.

And they loved it! The first spoonful met with widened eyes and happy murmurs. The simple dish somehow captured everything we were building together, uncomplicated, nourishing, greater than the sum of its parts.

I happened to be known for great khichdi after that, and each time I cook khichdi at my home, a Dunzo to their home had become a norm. Each time they cook something special, we used to get a tiffin!

There's something deeply intimate about sharing and receiving food made by caring hands. A humble bridge between separate lives now intertwined.

Festival of Connections

It was Holi ahead and like home, there was now a family in Bangalore. One of them wanted to make 'Ghujia' and it was a plan! All of us gathered together at their home. The whole preparation was a fun activity creating a core memory and rich bonds between all of us!

Flour dusted our hands, sticking under fingernails and powdering cheeks when we absentmindedly brushed hair away. The sweet aroma of khoya warming with cardamom filled the kitchen. We formed an assembly line.. rolling, filling, crimping, frying.. punctuated by laughter and occasional groans when a gujiya refused to cooperate.

That Holi celebration sealed something special. As colors brightened the city outside, inside we found the true spirit of the festival. Connection, joy, and the feeling of family created through choice rather than circumstance. In that small kitchen, far from our childhood homes, we created something that felt remarkably like belonging.

The Taste of Friendship

Of bonds that grow and fade, friendships are made and broken. Life changes, priorities change, bittersweet stories formed.

All that stays is strong memories, preserved like photographs in the heart.

To be continued…