All my friendships have begun with food. A deep shared love for some kind of food. (Freud would comment on this.)
Paris, Alanis and I are different. We would never have hung out at the same clubs (if I ever went to a club at all). I would look on perplexed as Alanis hugged the same people every single day for straight 20 seconds as if she hadn’t just met them the day before. Paris would piss me off with her la-di-lah “I can’t go for a picnic coz I get carsick” ways. But we all loved our dal-chawal-bhindi. We didn’t just love it… it filled our soul. It bound us together in a way that only something that means home can. This shared meal at Mrs. H’s table was what made us sisters.
Another friend from my college days, Shade, was made over college vada pav. We marvelled daily at the sheer perfection of college anna’s vada pav. The chutney was so right… so suited to the vada pav that even I, who like my vada pav unadulterated, loved it. Every day we would wander over to the canteen without thought. Order our vada pavs like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally… “Anna, ek Vada pav, sambar nahin, chutney side mein or ek mirchi bhi.” Etc. We went on to share books, obsessions and a disregard for others.
Shade is now in NZ and I haven’t been back to that Vada Pav. Maybe I will one day.
In Bombay I met Harry. Or she met me. And in our apartment we bonded over oil slicked, takeout Indian Chinese. We were poor. We were struggling and we were stingy. Jimmies Kitchen was cheap and his servings were more than generous. So we patronized Jimmy. Or Jimmies. Grammar not being his strong point obviously. Harry and I also are like criminals who become friends because of a job done together. It started one day when Gaia was really in a temper and cooking. She was banging pans and vegetables around and we decided to cut our losses and get out before we were forced to eat food definitely not made with love. So both of us faked work calls and left 15 minutes apart. We then went to this shady joint on Carter road called Mezbaan and gorged on Alu parathas. It became our escape spot. Our place of flight in case of fight.
I’ve a friend at work. We have a quid pro quo relationship. I take her home cooked food and she ferries me around in her car as and when she can and I need.
Some of closest friends are also family. There are a lot of jumbled memories of growing up with them so I guess it’s not just about food… but certainly katha dal with talna, negia, labsi, kadi, badi, bhindi, mirchi, kat, teen belan dal, ghee is in our blood. It is the aroma that brings us home from wherever we may be. It is a flavour we are passing on to our kids and it is a spread that means togetherness. It's strange but friends who are as blood as blood love this meal too! hmm.
All relationships are about something basic I guess. So my friendships began with food – one of the base things on Maslow’s pyramid. And since then we’ve just been climbing right to the top of it.
