Poetry at Threads: Cookery
words | aamna haq
Learning to cook is part of growing up. The way it is taught is a crucial way for a family to connect; it fosters a better relationship. Although the conscious act of cooking has no clear connotation, the setting and demeanor in which it is done elucidates quite a lot about gender roles and so-called familial duties.
I scrape at my mother’s fingers
flakes of flour drift in the air
She’s been cooking
Her fingers are powerful
As she kneads her frustrations
into the dough of the roti
That she makes with
meticulous proportions
of oil, salt and water
She rolls her dough
into perfect circles
With glorious rounded edges
That I still cannot emulate
Even after all my years
Under her tutelage
At twelve years old
She ripped me from the pages
Of my Harry Potter story
And dragged me to the kitchen
Just woken up
and still in my pajamas
She taught me how to make a roti
It was dry, crisp, boxy, and burnt;
I failed
Again, she said and I did it again
Swallowing her criticisms
And suppressing my anger
At having to do the menial work.
It did not occur to me that my mother
Would also feel this irritation
Of having to cook
For a home
Of ungrateful fools
While nursing her knees and her back
And dirtying her hands
So that we would not go hungry
Her efforts are easily disregarded
As she places the food on the table
And it is gone within a few moments
A stark contrast to the time
She spent hunched over,
Begging her body to give her strength
I take it all for granted
Her labor and her effort
And her sacrifices
---
My mother’s back
And her knees
And her resolve
Took a hit one day
She lay on the floor
Immobile
My brothers and I
Waiting in the car
Key in the ignition
For the next few days
She spent her time
In a white gown
While my father
Attempted to feed us
He tried.
His roti was worse than mine
Charred at the edges
Brittle and too thin
I remember joking with him
And he laughed it off
After all, this wasn’t his job
---
Over time
I was able to perfect
The art
My father has
Improved - slightly.
Not really
My mother
Subdues her pain
And carries on
