Wordy Delight

Have you ever fallen on a sword 🗡️ for protecting your family’s reputation.

I am talking about the cultural tradition of cooking sumptuous meals to offer and share the unending joy and fulfillment through it.

Observed as the mother of the family I am tied to the house matronly and this practice makes me thoroughly domesticated.

Each day miscellaneous activities make me belong to the stratum of beings—getting me closer to becoming a nun. And here, I request you not to cry hoarse for me in empathy. The cheerful prospect of eating good dinner and feeling like your own home is what I bring. So no need to view me as a suffragette seeking sacrilegious retreats.

As best I can remember, I was religiously taught this familiar tradition of lifting spirits ( certainly—not ghosts,) long ago.

A truth about my delightful cooking is that even a hour after eating my guests look still impoverished.

Yes, I have been an ole adroit invisible to the public.

And over the years, especially after post covid, I have turned into a minor hypochondriac, highly selective of the ingredients I use in my cooking. Formidable disapproval of almost everything as a health hazard makes me a minimalist.

And, like so, many aeons ago , I ceremoniously got inducted into this great act of good faith cooking.

During festivals and Christmas holidays by heck of added efforts and for the extra worth of gathering good grace, I endlessly cook.

Depicting food as a cosmic moral code and enshrining it as something divine comes naturally to me.

*I owe it to my fanatic addictive quality of not leaving impious cultural heritage.

However I have surely come over the sway of many other influences while I sought consanguinity with culinary traditions while I was slobbering around the world claiming to make my food inventions as some afterthoughts. Don’t give me tremendous congrats just yet!

To increase the force of my cooking I experimented with spices with a plan to make a recipe seem but I ended up making a firecracker 🧨 instead. But the formidable idea exploded quite literally. End to end, people absconded after eating my bomb 💣 shaped croquettes . Prematurely, after a bite all got together as if wound to a timer and diffused loosely around in the corridors in search of bogs.

Upon return from latrines I had to claim them alive that one fine morning.

Thusly I became hugely unpopular in certain quarters of the world. But the spirit of Vasco da Gama ( explorer,) particularly, the thought of raw living under the tent ⛺️ bound me to other places. I turned to freelance my scavenging habits and made my presence more meaningful ( known,) by good heartedly pioneering to cook for the less fortunate. I volunteered to cook for the homeless. There, Mr. Kim watched me and my cooking with great interest. Mrs. Sue came to the table wishing to enjoy my food.

A time or two, Mr. Ben was also nosing around for want of not missing anything. With great interest, I took charge of the breakfast making. There, I ended up putting a toast on fire 🔥. Everyone stood with their back to the fire but tinned empty soda cans were tied to my back. I was made the best case of unwanted trash and immediately shunted out.

Fortunately, I had been a good runner. So I ran with my much stimulated imagination. By the backyard and by the lanes, I made friends with every astonished stare. I banged doors to let me in and that got me into a senior home.

There I got in immediately and shut the doors behind. They welcomed me with hurried tones —as though, I was their a rescue worker. An hour later, all the seniors broke with mad anxiety when I was announced as their chef 👩‍🍳

This was a relief because they were bored of their previous cook. His insipid cooking had notoriously gotten a few elderly into fights — mongrel types, sulking. Each hour spent there, I was finding it difficult to keep my balance.

But those seniors ( my messiahs,) gave me a terrific opportunity to slip into their kitchen —and, without explaining I made small quantities of “ masala fries. “

Earlier experiences had hindered me from cooking ferociously. But my viciously yellowed French fries 🍟 knocked a senior out. A nurse practitioner broke fences to get me. Half way across the yard she caught me and expelled me. Her widest amicable smile turned into fuming fret. This substitution got me dazed.

Bringing my rotatory eyes to a halt, I ran to see what had dropped with a thud behind her. Apparently a senior had eaten my fries and sought heavenly abode. Later I learnt that all the seniors wished to not see my face ever. They got my photo off of their Happy thereafter charts.

Those were the days ! Yes , those were the days when I was replaced, once again!

And wonderful enough, such influences pointed forward to include a due credit to all those seniors (my ancestors included, ) who had artfully sown the seeds of healthy eating for all those wakeful realizations.

Today I take extra precaution while I cook for my family and friends —more specifically during winters and special occasions such as Christmas 🎄🤶 🎅 Don’t worry, after having tried, tested and measured stringently for cooking I am too frightened. Obviously 🙄 I have no plans of mass burials.

For added relief let me add a bonus note here. Here it is—Pardon me in advance!

P.S: So saddened by early incidents and accidents, I didn’t strangle myself.

Instead, I overcame my disability to engage in erratic cooking. I pulled myself up with my own hands and took to the streets, leading up to nearest temple. I prayed 🙏 🤲 frantically then! I rebuilt myself around those sermons and chants . Most memorable was the fact that I had to one time tell stories about cooking and how I had drifted around like a monk —only to discover how meals and supper were meant to be shared.

Then, peculiarly tried and tested, I sullenly steered towards religiously studying of food with greater poignancy. Many comparative studies of food cultures and their historical origins led me to believe in the gospel fact of food’s piety.

Symbolically food has been the most vital aspect in defining the piety , purity and practices of many cuisines. That’s why ( I guess,) it is said that the mills of the god grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small.

In the course of human evolution, and in knowing —how, what and where such formative thoughts emerged, I have taken a humble bow in thanking all forefathers who placed immense faith in food as a precursor for good thoughts. That’s why the phrase “food for thought,” posits the truth behind every single four-course plan for deeper seeks.

So in this way our forefathers handed down a wide range of strange habits and strong beliefs with greater precision and intentionality. To that, I can fairly shout out all emotions in high spirits !

It was like they were emphasizing real food over food trends. Almost implying to draw out the meat of the matter and not to make a mistake of valiantly ruining my guts ( digestion,) with any of the richly made highly-priced cooking. They taught me that mighty great food and grand old living is built around simple foods.

And while they had experimented and sanctioned a variety of sources of food that we relish today, I wonder how they felt and what they underwent while tasting those flavors for the first time.

Precisely there’s no arguing about tastes especially when roasting of eggs becomes mandatory. Conscious of it or not, food ( normally feast,) is the central attraction of many joyous occasions. The proof of the pudding at such occasions is in eating.

Goings-on like this, stretches the magnificent cooking into the literary chambers of extraordinary significance.

Thus, food when perceived as an expression of thought and felt towards spreading warmth—undoubtedly, carries with it a greater purpose.

Hence, food is used as a symbolic source of rhetoric and it isn’t uncommon to refer to it in everyday conversations.

Apart from being the focal point of grace, food mustn’t fail the least, else there’s a danger of the beasts attending the feasts much like —f@rting hidden identities revealed thro’ those windy 🌬️ releases.

Towards that I dare to care and share some of these dietary “after-thoughts,”alongside their accruing benefits.

It’s like a finders keeping as few words are better digested when chewed properly.

Though commonly found yet uncommonly profound, these wordy reflections serve in a platter and mustn’t be taken lightly.

Now, as enough is as good as a feast —likewise, good digestion waits upon good appetite. Standing on its own “ bottoms up 👍,” without falling to the ground, I wish you all good dining this holiday season.

So don’t budge , just binge ‘coz a grace shall birth to effect and takes its prominence—more so, when you try to apparently seek to conserve many of those precious learnings merely gathered around such festive gluttony.

Hence, the feast of reason for a season comes forth as both fast binding and fast finding.

© ✍️ Madhu Goteti, 🍂🍁December 16th, 2025🍁

P.S: Now just imagine the girth behind the usage of the abbreviated form of the word Christmas, eventually represented by its short form X-mas.

Does it hold the same delight while streaming to rise above its actual symbolic source of imagery?

To this day, it’s the memory embracing the whole spirit and the essence of Christmas. The whole word when scribed as it is and conserved fully with the word “Christ,” embedded in it makes sense.

Quite frankly, the descent to a shorthand representation —in the form of “X mas,” escapes the sanctity of full faith.

It’s like reigning half scale to peck at “whatever,” before one arrives.

What would you do if you were to be read and understood half heartedly with an X displacing the Christ in it.

Would you accept the sheer bliss in it and feel blessed for being cross sectioned like that.

Then again , it’s like one half of the word not knowing the other half was actively agile. To me, the X in Xmas seems cowling itself to make itself look like a monk. Christmas comes but once a year and when it comes, it must bring full cheer and full representation.

Similarly, on a diametrically dissimilar yet on a familiar grammatical plane, visualize the word COOKING, so much so, getting obscure and transposed over the word COOK to conjure up a permanent fixture like that of a prominent star to guide the wise.

Then, in order to serve the righteous food would you provide those it’s and-ans, ifs and buts, where pots and pans w’d have needed no lamb 🐑.

Now that certainly rules out any ostentatious display of any “Angelic tendencies,” pointing towards otherworldly “Supra-beings.”

In being an ordinary regular one, I shall expand the context of this article to encompass the entire humanity in it.

It’s like an overture composed, both the natural way and in the most mystical manner to cast over as a star to signify the righteous from the erroneous ones.

In the like of which — Would it be reasonable to imagine Joseph or Mother Mary not seeing themselves as “cooking stars,” in those days.

Fraught with excruciating pain and such chaotic situations were they fit to cook in the light of things thrown at them. They were exceptional cooks facing extraordinary circumstances.

I call them —ace performers.

And with that said, conclusively, IMHO, revolting against those who use the word cook loosely to signify somebody ordinary is helluva erroneous judgement. So tread carefully—with Caution please!

And then, as one of the most fascinating turns and for better known consensus sets off widespread spun, one must be thoroughly realistic in giving a good sense to the act of the hand that cooks especially while engages in representing

the holy act of Jesus and Mary I am referring to cooking during auspicious occasions such as Christmas.

Subordinating the duties of cooking and viewing it as some random acts of satiation seems like disservice to the sanctity of the occasion. Christmas calls for greater reason to celebrate and signify pious acts of service and such a grace should be distinguished from arbitrary cooking anything or everything in the name of festivities.

Holy moly, in the end, a germane approach must resonate the grand theological views propagated by cooking especially when our eloquence serves as an inspiration to guide the world to become our kings 👑 🤴 and redeemers.

For it is declared like so in John 1:1, 14 : “In the beginning ( not -been-inn-in-ninnings ,) was the WORD, and the WORD was with GOD and the Word was GOD. The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory , the glory of the one and the only son, who came from the father full of grace and truth.

So what have you learnt from the above ☝️ passage.

Taking words and their usage seriously and not cooking up new meanings arbitrarily.

It is no minor issue nor major matter to cook wisely

Nothing must contravene tradition if one were to maintain the sanctity of the season —any occasion, any time for any reason.

Sacred holidays such as Christmas should be spelt whole nine yards without commercialization and cutting its full name into half like Merry Christmas to X-mas.

Regionalism and sectarianism always seemingly eating away the exact spiritual roots. That’s not fair!

Cooking right to provide food for the righteous acts is crucial.

Elevated to those thoughtful levels the point to ask now is: are we going any far in unifying the centrality of graceful cooking to mark its rationality.

To this day, it’s the memory of our ancestors and their kindness and generosity that endures through cooking.

The true magic and wonder of it unfolds when one descends to re-ascend through the process of cooking by which, the timeless ancestry gets bound to our spirit and transmutes through our flesh to both enrich and refurbish hope into our lives. So learning to cook and serving it with dedication may have come from an early creed of selfless givers serving the real reason for the season —to those —most in need of grace and care.

This realization does cheer me up whenever I cook for my family and friends. Nevertheless I prefer not to hark ! and herald like an Angel 👼 singing : O blimey! God and sinners both are reconciled.

Know this !

Cooking is a medium of expression and it may come off as the most defeatist hobby as though resonating my middle class mentality.

But moving overseas nothing has gotten outlandish about me. The habit of cooking and making it as humble service remains the same with me.

For me, cooking has been a mark of deliverance. It’s the thing that matters most to me And by that I mean, the most distinguishing aspect of any festival is for me is sumptuous cooking not necessarily lavish piece meals.

To that I must say: ole habits die hard. Generationally festive season means cooking for family and friends

So every holiday season ( Christmas included,) I come around —every waking minute— to the natural happenstance of cooking 🧑‍🍳 heavily. I cook , cook and cook until my kith and kin are terribly flattered.

To that effect I ensure that everyone has their fill before they leave my hearth.

For me, cooking has been a mark of deliverance. It’s the thing that matters most to me And by that I mean, the most distinguishing aspect of any festival is for me is sumptuous cooking not necessarily lavish piece meals.

To that I must say: ole habits die hard. Generationally festive season means cooking for family and friends