But I am home

You're going home after so long?

How did you stay away all this while? We try to go home every year, if not every other year.

Enjoy your trip home!

Didn't you miss home?

But I am home.

I bit my lips, quelled those words and smiled because they meant well. But try as hard as I might, I could not think of my visit to India as going home or returning home because I am home. My home is where my husband and child are. We build the walls of our home together. It does not matter where we live.

Recently, an Australian woman living in Boulder tuned into a Sydney radio channel while making dinner for her family and tweeted that "Surrounding myself with home is pretty awesome." Again, I brushed away those same words.

Hmmmm?!

Familiar sounds, including language and accents, form a huge part of the connotation of home. I remember a time when the day was heralded by the signature tune of All India Radio, followed by the temple bell that tolled without fail at the same time every morning, and the milkman who rang the doorbell shortly thereafter. The layers of sounds thickened with the whoosh of steam being released from pressure cookers in neighboring kitchens, the incessant cawing of crows and the slowly amplifying crush of peak hour traffic which was like a crescendo that, unfortunately, did not die out until the fatigued day gave in to the darkness of night.

Pressure

The rhythms changed as the flickering television sets tried to outdo each other in volume, until they too succumbed to the night. As if by clockwork, packs of stray dogs took the baton from the crows, in the relay to keep the decibel levels going. These were the sounds of home for a little over a decade of my adult life.

Familiar smells ranged from the aromas of different regional cuisines that wafted from open kitchen windows, to the grimy sweat of the relentless crowds, to the lingering metallic odor of trains and buses on my hands and my clothes, to the fishy rotting stench of the bay. I have not missed any of these smells except for the first. I make it a point to have those endearing aromas fill my kitchen on a regular basis.

Suburban traffic

Goods Carrier

Small suburban street

Pigeons everywhere

Bullock cart

The flight from Zurich to Bombay was a troubled journey for me. I knew that I would not recognize the city that I once claimed as my own and, sometimes, still do. The landscape has changed dramatically with the new flyovers and bridges, some under construction forever. The skyline that was once a characteristic of South Bombay is now muddled by taller buildings in previously unknown and not-so-cool suburbs. Many physical landmarks have either been torn down or have been obscured in the wild rush to build much-needed infrastructure. I was reminded that I lacked the home that every willingly-displaced Indian speaks yearningly of, where their latent baby self is encouraged to emerge so that they can be pampered and indulged. Comfort and the feeling that you belong; a safe zone. Isn't that what it's all about?

My anxiety grew as I began to feel like I had left my home behind. As corny and cliched as it may sound, I looked around me and realized that as long as I had my husband and my child with me, I was always home. The smells, sounds and sights that most people associate with home are not important to me. These two people are. I drew her closer to me and reached out across the aisle for his hand - thirty-three thousand feet in the sky and yet, I was lucky to be home. I relaxed and slept the sleep of a weary traveler.

♥

Varan

• 1 cup tur dal
• 3 cups water
• 1/2 tsp cumin seeds
• 1/4 tsp turmeric powder
• 1 1/2 tbsp sugar
• 1 tbsp ghee
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• pinch asafetida
• Salt to taste

Varan

1. Rinse and soak tur dal for at least an hour, more if you have the time. If you are short on time, do a hot soak. It's good for you!
2. Drain tur dal and add it to the pan of your pressure cooker with 3 cups of water.
3. Add cumin seeds, turmeric powder, sugar, asafetida and salt to taste.
4. Stir and pressure cook according to the directions on your pressure cooker on medium-heat until the tur dal is soft and can be mashed easily with a fork. In my pressure cooker, this takes 3 whistles or 3 whooshes of pressure release.
5. Turn the heat down and cook for another 10 minutes.
6. Allow the pressure cooker to cool and open only when it is safe to do so.
7. Stir well or if you like use a hand blender to bring it to a smooth consistency.
8. Add lemon juice and ghee and serve immediately over bhaat, steaming hot rice.

Varan bhaat, bhaji ani lonche

Notes:

• Traditionally, lemon juice and ghee are added to the varan after it has been poured over a mound of rice. I like to add it to the pot to keep my life simple.
• We like our varan to be a little thicker. Add more water, if you like, and adjust salt, if you do.
• In many homes, a meal begins with varan-bhaat and in others, it must end with varan bhaat.
• I grew up eating only varan-bhaat. I did not explore anything outside of varan bhaat until I met free range chicken in Nairobi. Then I switched to eating only chicken.
• Varan-bhaat must be on the menu at every Maharashtrian wedding. It took great skill to sit on the floor in all your finery, for lunch, and then have to leap out of the way as the servers tossed hot varan on the steaming mound of rice in your disposable plate made from banana leaves. Just when you thought you were safe, the guy - why is it always a guy? - serving warm ghee showed up and you had to do that maneuver all over again.
• There are many variations of varan and this is the simplest of them all.

Varan-bhaat, the ultimate in comfort food

When I eat varan-bhaat, I am home.