My Love Language

I was probably exposed to my love language very early in life, though it took me 25 years to truly understand what it meant. It wasn’t until I moved to Kharagpur for my master’s that I began to realize its depth and value.

As a child, I loved eating vada and sambar, especially the sweet, Mangalore-style variety. Even today, I could sip through buckets of it without pause. Sadly, I couldn’t find that exact taste in Kharagpur or here in Edmonton, but that never stopped me from eating or loving food.

In India, food is more than sustenance, it is an emotion, a celebration, and often, a silent expression of love. As author Chitrita Banerji puts it in her book Eating India, "Food in India is not just a means of satisfying hunger, it is a cultural expression, an offering to gods, a gift to others, and a language of bonding."

In Kharagpur, I began experimenting more in the hostel room with a portable induction stove, cooking with whatever ingredients I could find. That’s how I ended up making a surprisingly good rasam and potato curry, often borrowing masala from my roommate. Those simple meals helped both Arpita di and me, in sickness and in health.

They say “food is a way to a man’s heart,” but I’d argue that “food is the way to a Bengali’s heart” is the real truth.  A typical Bengali household, of course, doesn’t settle for simple. 

Meals come with an elaborate spread - starters, main course, and my personal favourite: Gud ka Rasgulla (jaggery-soaked milk balls). Watching a movie recently brought back memories of those beautiful platings, lovingly curated menus, and maa’s care packages when she visited us in Kharagpur. Her food made our cramped hostel like home. Those visits were full of laughter, life lessons, late-night chats, and of course,  incredible food.

In Indian homes, mothers rarely say "I love you" in words, they show it through the perfectly balanced dal, the soft rotis, the unexpected favourite dish after a long day. As the saying goes, “Annadata sukhibhava”, may the one who serves food be blessed with happiness.

Around that time, food delivery apps like Swiggy and Zomato started gaining popularity. Getting food delivered to your doorstep was thrilling, until you back-calculated the actual price versus what you paid for convenience. But love doesn’t look at price tags.

Later, when I moved back to Bangalore for work, I often cooked for myself. I’ve always preferred self-cooked or home-cooked meals. But every now and then, a surprise would show up at my door- a donut, a piece of cake, a box of vegetarian biryani (deal with it, my non-vegetarian friends), a pizza, or some pasta. Though miles apart, our hearts remained connected,  through taste buds.

Then came COVID. With no option to eat outside, I relied solely on my cooking and my mother's food, both of which, thankfully, were good. But once restrictions eased, we were back to sending food when we couldn’t meet. That’s when it struck me, you begin to share the same love with others because you’ve experienced it deeply yourself.

Eventually, a few more friends found their way onto my “love through food” list, especially Shayeri, who was thoroughly pampered by this practice and grew to love it more and more with time.

My closest friends know why I suddenly ask for their address or how their day went. Birthdays, New Years, festivals, anniversaries, graduations, they weren’t always celebrated through phone calls or Zoom meets. Often, it was just a message: “The food was amazing. Love you loads.”

Oddly enough, it wasn’t the special days that mattered most , it was the hard ones. A rough day at work, a fight with someone, my period blues, and then a delivery at the door. No words were needed. Just food, showing that someone was thinking of me. That we were showing up for each other.

Moving abroad made this harder. I admit, I shamelessly complained when I didn’t get my share of love (read: food). But eventually, we figured it out. Today, I was even taught how to deliver food to a new location, just not in India and Canada, of course.

As chef and food writer Tarla Dalal once said, “When you cook with love, it shows. The aroma, the taste, the smile on the face of the one who eats it, that's the reward.”

As the sender, the fun lies in the guessing game, choosing the right restaurant, the right meal, based on how well you know the person. Being vegetarian, I’m often unsure about the best non-veg options, but somehow, with a bit of luck and a lot of love, I’ve managed to send food that hits the right note.

And the message, “You made my day”, is the best return gift I could ever ask for.

To me, this love language goes beyond food. It’s about using technology to nurture relationships, not just to entertain ourselves with reels and games, but to say:

                       

                          “You matter to me. I want to nourish our connection.”

Because sometimes, emotions that words can’t express............are best served warm!!