Suji Ka Halwa (Semolina Pudding)

It was one of the main reasons I was keen to leave, and did at the first opportunity I got. However, whenever I do return, I always experience a sudden but familiar dip in confidence. Outside the tight confines of my job, I suddenly lose the ability to speak authoritatively, scout locations, talk to strangers, drive, write and even, cook. This hints at how easy it can be for an environment to quietly wrest agency away from you if you are not paying attention. While I would shrug this feeling off as a temporary side effect of being in the homeland, it’s a serious problem when you realize you too are one of the grown-ups in the room. Do I give up simply because I “left”? I have been thinking a lot about the last part since the death of Pakistan’s leading human rights activist, Asma Jahangir. Her death has left a giant void in Pakistan – there is nobody of her stature, her fearlessness that can take her place. Who from my generation can and will follow in her footsteps? Doing so requires us to be brave, take risks, and make a conscious choice to step outside the parameters set by elders, class and institutions. And contrary to what a lot of people have told me, I do think the young Pakistani diaspora has a role to play, within our families and our larger communities. So as feeble as it sounds, I began to take small steps to find my feet inside Pakistan. I began to drive again. I attended a political event after ten years. I began to work on my first food story from here (which is actually really hard. Props to Pakistani female reporters here, they don’t have it easy). And I stepped inside my mother’s kitchen for the first time, refusing to be discouraged by the daunting standards Pakistani home cooks set for themselves. During my first week, I decided to start small and baked Smitten Kitchen’s chocolate olive oil cake for my aunt’s birthday. It’s a simple cake that I have made at least half a dozen times. It’s impossible to botch up and of course, it was a disaster. The pan I chose was too small. The oven was not hot enough. The flour was temperamental. And so, the cake oozed out of the pan; and crumbled at the first touch. But I didn’t give up. The next week, I made Come Con Ella’s chicken hara masala – boneless chicken simmered in a blend of yogurt, cream, cilantro and mint – and fared better. I grew bolder, and made cholay, my own recipe, the week after (side note: got some good feedback from my mom and have updated the recipe accordingly). While the chickpeas bubbled in a thick, spicy blend of tomatoes, onions and spices, I whipped up gujarati aloo, an old favorite, to serve on the side. To complete the meal, my cooks fried some Dawn parathas; and my mother showed me how to make sujji ka halwa, semolina flour browned on low heat and infused with sugar syrup. While the spread was heavy on the calories, it was delicious from start to finish. But more importantly, it felt like that it was mine and my mother’s in equal measure. Here’s to taking small steps to make way for big ones.