Skip to main content

Eating Fish

I love eating like a salmon but am not a big fan of the salmon itself and turns out that its good for me too.  It is part of being Bengali and growing up in India in a place where there was an abundant variety of fish. Even so, I treasured my trips to Kolkata as a kid because there was a whole new universe of small fish there that was not quite as easy to find where I lived. A lot of the fish my relatives bought were sold live in the fish market. My grandmother would not buy fish that were already dead and they had to be pretty small. She did not think bigger fish were particularly healthy and avoided them

.. eating tiny fish is said to be better for the environment, because it allows larger fish populations to thrive and puts less strain on the aquatic food systems. Smaller fish, which live shorter lives, naturally contain less mercury than larger fish and are known for being abundant sources of protein, calcium, iron — and vitamins D, A, and B12. 

Turns out that she was right. It's interesting how often I think of her as I go about my day. She was always excited to see me and was demonstrative in her affection. She made sure there were sweet treats for me - ones that she had made herself, not bought from the store. Food was a the biggest way she expressed love and care so every meal was a way for her to convey her feelings. I did not have the sense to understand all that but I still recall that warm and cozy that enveloped her far from perfect home. 

The musty smell of the ancient, dilapidated house, the lack of modern amenities or personal space did not bother me. The rhythm of life at her place was different and I was excited to jump into it and enjoy everything it had to offer. The small fish or the strange bathroom one flight down from her house where water from the river flowed into a tub were not particularly "special" things but they were unique and could belong to me for as long as I stayed there. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...

Carefree Wandering

There are these lines in Paul Cohelo's Alchemist that I love about the shepherd turning a year later to sell wool and being unsure if he would meet the girl there But in his heart he knew that it did matter. And he knew that shepherds, like seamen and like traveling salesmen, always found a town where there was someone who could make them forget the joys of carefree wandering. What is true of the the power of love and making a person want to settle is also true of  finding purpose in life. If and when a person is able to connect their work to purpose they care about, the desire for change disappears. They are able to instead channel that energy into enhancing the quality of the work they are already doing. As I write this, I remember S a brand manager I used to know a couple of decades ago. He worked for a company that made products for senior citizens, I was a consultant there. S was responsible for creating awareness of their new products and building awareness of what already ex...