The Potluck

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“A shared meal is an invitation to love, laughter, and genuine conversation.” – Oprah Winfrey

Today is a beautiful day, and I’m feeling super excited to prepare a homemade dish for our office potluck.
A week ago, the recreation committee at our office sent an email inviting us to celebrate with a potluck. Surprisingly, the word ‘Potluck’ baffled me, but to avoid feeling demotivated, I cleverly attributed my vocabulary weakness to my Marathi medium school background. What surprised me was my Boss—despite her schooling in a convent school, she also struggled to understand the term. Luckily, this unexpected discovery swiftly dispelled my self-doubt and promptly changed my perception of vocabulary skills in local vs. English medium schools.

Anyway, for the past couple of days, I have been extending a helping hand to my wife by preparing the tiffin for my school-going daughter. This is because the ladies in our society, including my wife, participate in intense yoga practice at the Yoga Centre. They are preparing to Showcase their precision performance for the upcoming local event on International Yoga Day — a grand award-winning event organised by our local Mayor.

As I was about to enter the Kitchen for preparation, my wife informed me that she had already kept the idli-dosa batter and garnished coconut in the freezer. Though my original plan was to make dosa, but my wife suggested uttapam instead because dosa would turn into uttapam in the tiffin box. She also mentioned that I could prepare the same dish for my daughter’s tiffin and the office party if I wished. I thanked her for her ingenious high-paid corporate management approach— achieving two goals in one stroke, even though she was a homemaker. When I asked how many portions for my daughter’s tiffin, she replied, “Two medium-sized portions.” And left for her yoga class with a yoga mat.

Following my wife’s suggestion, I made two uttapams for my daughter’s school tiffin and four for my office party. While my daughter was packing her school bag, she asked about the number of uttapams (a South Indian snack) I had made for her. I mentioned two, but she insisted on having four. When I asked for the reason, she explained that she had already informed her mother the previous night. She told me that her friend Sonu’s mother was unwell, and since Sonu’s father does not know cooking, they had planned to share my daughter’s tiffin for the day. I felt a sense of superiority, knowing that culinary skills are very hard to come and not for everyone.

But worried about the Vegaflation, particularly the skyrocketing tomaflation, I called my wife to give her a dose for offering free catering services. After a long ring, someone answered the call in a slow tone, “Sir, Madamji is currently in the Sirsasana position (an inverted yoga posture where the head goes down and the legs go up).” The voice asked if there was anything urgent, and I replied, “Nothing urgent,” before disconnecting the call.

“Papa, Sonu’s brother, also studies in her school in the 3rd standard. What will he eat? Even though Sonu hasn’t explicitly mentioned it, her brother might join us for sharing tiffin, so it would be better to take two more for him.”

Okay, now it’s time to start. I will drop my daughter off at the school bus stop and then catch my office bus. As we are about to step out of the house. My daughter surprised me with new information. She said, “Papa, Sonu’s brother, also studies in her school in the 3rd standard. What will he eat? Even though Sonu hasn’t explicitly mentioned it, her brother might join us for sharing tiffin, so it would be better to take two more for him.” Frustrated, I replied, “But then there won’t be anything left for me to take to the office party.”

At that moment, my inner irritation was on the verge of manifesting, making my daughter the first victim. But fortunately, my daily dose of meditation proved to be an effective saviour. I paused for a moment to reflect on whether my share of home-cooked Uttapam should go to the office potluck party or my daughter’s school potluck. Then I realised, anyway, how does it matter? After all, a potluck is a potluck. Thank you.

Daane daane pe likha hai khane wale ka naam (every grain bears the name of person who partakes) Happy dining!