Tomato & beetroot soup | Temporary Migrant

Tomato & beetroot soup and short story of the temporary migrant

I was mesmerised by the plush apartment provided by the company. It has chic upholstery, huge flat screen, colour contrasted furniture and a complete state of the art kitchen. I was jet lagged and excited at the same time. Mr.H already had pinned the board with nostalgia by requesting Chicken rice for lunch. Being in the posh localities it was devoid of supermarkets the only shop around was a license shop at the end of the street. Fortunately the owner was a Bangladeshi and recognised asian faces. He managed to provide us with some Rice and raw chicken. Mr. H came in emerging as a winner and landing the ingredients on the tabletop. I had to dive into the 65l travel bag to look for my indian masalas. Then came the daunting task of figuring out the electric hob. They all looked same and which knob belonged to whom was like a jigsaw. I did some permutation combinations and switched all of them on. I was a bit over the edge and had them on the highest heat mark. The moment I added the oil into the hot pan it caught fire. My spirits were slackened the very moment. I was so embarrassed that I rushed to the room and sobbed for a while. We ordered lunch from outside that day.

The days which followed were stomach churning smells of hot sausage, baked beans, bacon and hash browns. We went up and down the high street and basked in the early winter sun. Those were the glorifying days of getting seamless with English life. Then Mr. H started working and cherub started play school. I was still bedazzled with all things english and I wanted to take a break from work until the little one was off full time. That was the time I started this blog to keep myself busy and live my old dream of becoming chef.

But creative juices cannot dry up your hometown memories. You gradually seep in the english weather but you are still cold and numb from the memories back home. You miss the noisy neighbours and also the pokey ones, barking stray dogs whom you occasionally petted and most importantly the fervour of every small festival.Back home every nook and corner you have people to tell you directions, glance, sneer and giggle. Sometimes you even miss those corny faces. I once lost my way and I couldn’t find a soul to tell me the right directions.  I went around the same place three times. If you have google then you have the world at your tip otherwise shift to crowded countries like ours.

Our linguistics bias mimics accent, our parental soul goes seemingly berserk, mannerism override mischief, english becomes our mother tongue and most importantly we still remain strangers in gaga land.

This is the tale of temporary migrants who belong to the educated IT clan living out of their suitcase draining their brains over lumps of computer. Thriving on a strange soil but still figuratively living in their memories. Which in a way is good and bad, some of us are displaced and start mimicking everything here even before they have arrived while a selective few who know they arrived because they always value their departure.

Tomato & beetroot soup

Last week, when the entire family was suffering from a bad bout of cough and cold. We kept getting irritated with each other because none of us could help each other.Reluctance to cook, lethargy to wash vessels, we spent most of our weekend on the bed. The house was overflowing with soup.

This soup is very special to me. Why? because I hate the taste of beetroot. And god has trashed me violently saying “You are anaemic”. Back home when I came tired from work. This magic potion was placed in front of me by my MIL. I literally puked at the sight of this couple of times. But she was equally strict as my mum. Can you deny anything which was offered with so much love. But I still recall the smirk of Mr.H as he happily finished his entire bowl while I was still contemplating whether I should drain it down the sink. Then my MIL came up with a new ratio to totally alter the taste of this soup. It wasn’t screaming Beetroot anymore. Since then I have no problems in drinking this soup and now it has become a regular in our diet.

We live all by ourselves and we do not have the comfort of our parents looking over us. When you are sick,your body is your temple and you need to take care of it. A hard lesson which adulthood teaches you. I lost my mother in law several years back and now I thrive only in her memory. I still miss her love and care so much.

For her version of Tomato & beetroot soup she used to have a 2:1 ratio where two tomatoes to 1 beetroot make the perfect balance of taste and flavour.It was definitely enhanced with a pinch of salt & pepper. She also added a little dollop of butter on top which melted away into the rich creaminess of the soup. This is a must have soup in cold and cough and even generally. Both are rich in nutritional value and boast of beta-carotene,vitamins,iron and fibre.