In this piece, I aimed to capture the theme of multiculturalism and the power of language and culture to connect us to our heritage and to each other. I hope you enjoy it!
Now, as I cook in my own kitchen, I hear my mother's voice, whispering instructions in my ear. I chop the onions and ginger, just as she taught me, and the smell transports me back to her kitchen, where language and love and food blended together in a delicious, heady stew.
As a child, I never understood why my mother's kitchen was always filled with the most incredible smells. She would cook up a storm, and the aromas would waft through the entire house, making everyone's stomach growl with anticipation. But it wasn't just the food that was a mystery to me - it was the language she spoke while she cooked. A Multicultural Reader Daniel Bonevac.epub
When I was young, I didn't speak the languages she did. I was a product of American schools, where English was the only language that mattered. But in my mother's kitchen, language was a flexible thing. It was a tool, a seasoning, a way to add depth and love to the food.
One day, I decided to learn. I sat on a stool beside my mother, watching as she expertly chopped onions and ginger. "What's that?" I asked, pointing to the pile of chopped vegetables. In this piece, I aimed to capture the
"Pyaz?" I repeated, trying to get the pronunciation right.
My mother chuckled. "That's close, beta. Pyaz means 'onion' in Hindi." I chop the onions and ginger, just as
"Pyaz aur adrak," she replied, smiling. "Onions and ginger."
A fictional writer, Nalini Rao
