08/03/2022
WHY NEELA’s……..? THEY ASK
“Someday, you shall be a great cook,” my father had said when I first ventured into the kitchen. I was eight. Under my Ajji’s gentle supervision, I had rolled my first poli (roti). I can no longer recall whether it was evenly shaped or edible, but what remains vivid is the quiet pride that lit up her face. She paraded my clumsy creation with joy and declared she would have it for lunch. That was my earliest moment of culinary triumph — one measured not by perfection, but by her approval.
From that day on, every experiment of mine took place under her watchful eye, accompanied by her suggestions and subtle guidance. Her validation was my highest reward — the most authentic and heartening endorsement I could receive.
For her, food was never a mere necessity — it was a celebration of life, a sacred act performed daily at her modest yet reverent hearth. Before every meal, we children were taught to recite the traditional prayer, “वदनी कवळ घेता…” We chanted dutifully, unaware of its significance, until she, in her patient and devotional way, explained its essence — that food is a divine benediction, a gift from the Creator, and thus must be received with gratitude and reverence. What an elevating thought for a child’s mind to grasp!
She instilled in us the belief that wasting food was a form of ingratitude — an affront to the divine source of nourishment. Even today, I find myself unsettled at the sight of uneaten food on a plate. Ajji had taught me that cooking in the right measure, with respect for ingredients, was as important as flavour and presentation. Those lessons continue to echo through every meal I prepare.
During my growing years, I shadowed her through the rhythm of her kitchen — the clatter of vessels, the aroma of roasting spices, the quiet precision of her hands. I was her little assistant, chopping vegetables, cleaning utensils, and absorbing her methods with awe. Her culinary school had no blackboards or recipes — only observation, intuition, and practice. Whether it was a humble groundnut chutney or an intricate modak, her approach remained consistent: precision, patience, and perfection. No shortcuts. No compromises. She believed that cooking was a discipline of devotion.
Festivals were her grand stage — the kitchen transforming into a theatre of aromas and celebration. The atmosphere brimmed with enthusiasm as trays of sweets, savouries, and festive dishes filled every corner. Ganesh Chaturthi, Diwali, Navratri — each occasion brought its own distinctive spread, steeped in Marathi tradition. At the start of every year, Ajji would mark each tithi on the Kaalnirnaycalendar, planning months in advance. Her foresight, her meticulousness — all spoke of the devotion she poured into her craft. How I long for those days — when festivity began not with decorations but with the fragrance of ghee and cardamom in her kitchen.
Those were times untouched by culinary television or recipe books. To learn, one had to enrol in formal institutes. My father would often remark, “You have so much to learn from your Ajji — she herself is an institution. No culinary school can teach you what she can.” He was right.
People often say, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” It is usually said in jest, but Ajji believed it quite literally — except, she objected to the word ‘man’s’. For her, the way to every loved one’s heart was through their stomach. With her signature smile, she would remind me, “Thode prem pan ghaal — padartha changlach hoil” (Add a little love to your food, and it will turn out perfect). That was her eternal mantra — and perhaps her secret ingredient.
To eat what she cooked was a privilege. To her, cooking for others was equally sacred — an act of giving, of love made tangible. In every morsel she prepared lived her faith, her patience, and her boundless affection.
Today, she resides only in my memories, yet her spirit lingers in every meal I make. Whatever little culinary sense I possess is a reflection of her teachings, her blessings. My Ajji — Neela Waman Chitale — remains my eternal mentor, the best cook I have ever known, and one of the finest souls to have graced my life!!
