SC-S29/W2- Nostalgia Of The Liitle Me : Childhood Food Memories

How are you all? When I sit alone in this land of a distant expatriate, I unknowingly go back to that little me from twenty years ago. Childhood memories are always colorful, and if the taste of a special food is associated with that memory, it seems to be embedded in the heart for a lifetime. Since seeing the content of this competition, I have been thinking about a special food again and again, the taste and smell of which still makes me nostalgic.

Today I will write about the most favorite and emotional food of my childhood.

That special food and why it is special to me

When I say food memory of my childhood, the first thing that comes to mind is— "Bhuna Khichuri and Dim Phaji, steamed by my mother's hands on a rainy day."

In our childhood, rain meant a different kind of festival. When the sky darkened and the clouds called, we brothers and sisters would understand that there was no rush to go to school today. And this day would be completed by the fried khichuri made by my mother. This is not just a food for me, it is a symbol of my mother's love and a carefree childhood. Now I eat a lot of expensive food in big restaurants, but I can't find that pungent smell of mustard oil and that perfect blend of rice and lentils anywhere else.

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The cook with the magical hands and my feelings

My mother used to make this nectar-like dish. When my mother stirred the pot in the kitchen, an incredible aroma of khichuri would spread throughout the house. I would stand at the kitchen door, waiting for the cooking to finish.

I remember when my mother used to serve me khichdi from a hot pan to a plate. I felt like I was the happiest child in the world. A spoonful of ghee on steaming rice and a hard-fried egg – just seeing this scene would make my stomach grow hungry twice as much. My mother would feed me with great care, sometimes even putting her own hand in my mouth. At that moment, it felt like the touch of my mother’s hand had added some magical spice to the food, which is not available anywhere else in the world.

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When and where was it eaten?

The weather was the main factor rather than any specific time to eat this special dish. Usually, this arrangement was more common during the rainy season or on winter mornings. Our house was made of tin rice. When the raindrops made a gurgling sound on the tin roof, we would spread a mat on the floor of the house and sit in a circle.

It would be a shame if the school were closed, and if it were Friday, it would be a golden opportunity. The joy of eating khichdi with siblings in the pouring rain outside, the house dark due to load shedding, and the light and darkness of a hurricane is no longer available in any five-star buffet today. Sometimes it would be accompanied by roast beef or sour olive pickle. That atmosphere, the sound of that rain, and the gathering of the whole family—all together created a heavenly atmosphere.

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The emotion that still works when I remember that taste and smell

Even when it rains, I can smell that smell when I close my eyes. A strange sadness and love work. I remember those days, when there was no tension in life, only the joy of eating and playing.

No,w in my busy life, I may eat a lot of good food, but I don't get that satisfaction. My mother's sweaty face, her busyness in serving us food—my eyes get blurry when I remember these things. There was not just spice in the taste of that khichdi, but also mother's loving care. When I remember that taste, I understand that we don't actually miss food, we miss that time, the closeness of those dear people.

Is food still a part of my life today?

To be honest, this food is still a part of my life, but that feeling is no longer there. My mother can no longer cook like she used to with age. Sometimes my wife or I try to bring back that taste, but that "magic" of my mother's hands seems to be missing.

Even when it rains, khichdi is cooked, and we eat it. But that fuss of childhood, that unnecessary joy, and the lokmati kneaded by my mother's hands are now just memories. Still, this food reminds me of my roots, my relationship with my mother. It is no longer just a meal to satisfy hunger; it is a plateful of memories for me.

I am very happy to share these childhood memories with you. These childhood memories prove that food not only saves the body, but can also satisfy the soul.

Thank you all for reading my article.

I invite my friends @suboohi @josevas217 @solaymann @nainaztengra to participate in this competition.