Page 18 of A Kiss in Kashmir

At one point, Raahat’s mother announced that she was almost seventy, and then insisted on feeding Alina a spoonful of lamb curry by her own hand, saying that it would be a big blessing for the child.

Sharmila wiped away tears. Alina had not had the blessing of having grandparents from either side, and now in this kind valley, love was just pouring in from all sides. It comforted Sharmila greatly that her daughter was starting to feel at home and comfortable in India.

Alina found herself enjoying not just the meal but also the stories that Raahat and her mother shared.

Raahat told them, “My father was a great waza, but he had no sons, just me. Everyone thought his art of cooking would die with him. But he made sure I learned all his secrets. It has been my savior. It was during the pandemic that I started my business. I had to make a living. My father died during that time, and I had no other way to earn. Slowly the local community began to support me. Now, even the owners of local hotels give me business. I still have a lot to learn. I am nowhere near the master he was, but I learn with every dish I make.”

Sharmila asked, “Are there any other vegetarian dishes? The potatoes were just terrific, but I’m concerned. I know we will have a few guests who may not eat meat.”

“Oh yes, we have haaq saag—the server will bring it now. It is our signature spinach dish with garlic. We do a few other vegetables, like lotus stem. The wazwan is quite meat-heavy, but I can add whatever you want.”

One of the servers brought out the haaq saag and a bowl of onion chutney.

Raahat added a spoonful of the chutney to the trami, their shared plate “I should have served you this in the beginning. But better late than never. This is a dish that I have added to the wazwan. My father used to make his chutney spicy with Kashmiri chili, but I like mine a bit sweeter. Here, see what you think.”

All three of them reached for it at the same time and started laughing when their hands came together.

Raahat said, “You see, this is what I love. The food brings us together, and the taste makes the memories stay in our minds forever.”

It took another hour to finish the meal.

“Can I ask you a question, Raahat, if you don’t mind?” Alina asked softly.

“Of course.”

“Why is your place here so hidden? I’m checking on Google, and Instagram, but I don’t see any mentions, any reviews. Why aren’t you telling more people about this place? Your food is amazing. The fact that you’re one of the first women to cook this type of food—I mean, everyone should know about this, right?”

Raahat looked at George and they both smiled knowingly.

“You see, what I am doing goes against centuries of tradition and culture. Not everyone accepts this. I have been told to stay in my place, so to speak, many times over. Vandalism, name calling, and all that horridness is something I had to get used to. But I decided that I will let my food speak for itself. Food doesn’t taste better if one gender or another cooks it. Food tastes good when someone prepares it with love. I stay behind the scenes and let the food speak.”

Alina felt her eyes sting and she blinked away a tear.

Raahat’s mom suddenly interrupted them. “Raahat, where is your father? He needs to come and finish cleaning the stove in the kitchen. I am going home. Tell him to come home when he arrives.”

“Yes, he is coming. Don’t worry. I will send him to you as soon as he comes here,” Raahat said. Sharmila placed a hand on Raahat’s shoulder and gently squeezed it.

When Raahat’s mother left, Alina asked her, “Sorry, I thought you said your father had passed away?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to tell her that. I used to do that, but then each time she reacts as though it is the first time she has heard it and goes into a deep spiral, and then she forgets about an hour later. So now, I don’t say anything.”

Raahat brought their attention back to the food as she told them all the other dishes she could make if they selected her to cater the wedding.

“This was one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” Sharmila declared. “I really hope that you will cater this wedding and, of course, bring your mother. She is so kind. It will be a small group of people, and we don’t know where yet, but we will soon.”

George stood up first. “Thank you, Raahat. I continue to learn from you. Not just your amazing food, but how kind you are to your mother. It can’t be easy, I know, taking care of someone who cannot remember. If I can ever help, just call me, please.”

Raahat thanked them. “It was so nice to meet you. I hope to see you all again during your stay here. Please do let me know about the wedding.” Raahat handed Alina a gold and red silk pouch. “This contains the heart of Kashmiri cooking.”

Alina peered into the bag and found a packet of local saffron. “Thank you so much, Raahat. You are so kind.”

When Sharmila tried to pay, Raahat wouldn’t accept any money for the meal. “It is my pleasure to help your daughter discover the land of her father. George told me her papa was from here. It is the least we can do for a daughter of our land.”

Sharmila looked at George as if to say,Please help, we need to pay her. Instead, George said, “We are so honored that you have given us this gift, Raahat.”

Taking the cue from George, Sharmila realized that the exquisite moment wasn’t merely about settling the bill. It was a testament to the embrace of heartfelt hospitality.

“I feel like this meal has transformed us from strangers into kindred spirits,” she said. “Much like your saffron, Raahat. It has left an indelible mark of love in my spirit. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

---