domesticity + smita = domesmita

I can’t recall a time when I didn't avoid the kitchen like an epidemic plague that causes an incurable rash, rapidly eating away at my heart and soul.

Then I got married. And to all the Indian ladies out there, let me tell you, once you tie that knot you are expected, by both your mother and your mother-in-law, to provide your hard-working husband with a hot, three-course Indian meal at the end of each day. Working full-time, I felt I had an excuse not to venture into the kitchen other than to fix myself a snack or grab a cold beer. 

Every so often, I’d stumble across a recipe online and cautiously delve into the kitchen. This anomaly was greeted with high praise by the Mister (with whom the dinner is bar so low, Mac n’ cheese brings him joy). Often, news of my culinary concoction would travel to the edge of the Heartland to be met with words of over-enthusiastic encouragement by my mother. And quickly followed by her continuous appeal to teach me traditional Goan dishes, which I would invariably shrugged off with an indifferent response.

So what changed?

In June, I gave birth to a baby girl…and conceived an epiphany. It was during this epiphany that images of my daughter expressing astonishment at me in the kitchen preparing dinner, gawking at Indian meals with bewilderment and expressing indifference towards our home flashed before my eyes. By not taking initiative in my domestic affairs I would be doing my family, and myself, a huge disservice.

My youth was full of milk and cookies, traditional Indian meals and a warm, welcoming atmosphere. When I reminisce back to the days of yonder, I remember being embraced by rich spicy smells; I recall the delicious, well-balanced Goan dinners prepared with care each night. 

I want the sweetness of freshly baked cupcakes to rouse memories my of daughter's childhood and I want her mouth to water at the mention of my chicken curry. For my family, I want my home to be adrift with delicious aromas and garnished with décor that resonates warmth and contentment. Anything less would rob her of the home that she deserves.

And so, with the conception of my epiphany we have the birth of Domesmita.