- Bangalore Mirror. Sun, September 14, 2008.
I walked into my parents-in-laws’ house one day, to find the kitchen and part of the dining room under siege.
Warm and sweet-smelling, the vapours of steaming rice filled my senses, as I stood in the familiar aroma of my favourite dish. For a quick moment, I tranced back to a life I was married away from, just months earlier.
As my husband pushed past to get the car ready for the long drive, my mother-in-law was already onto her second round of kadambutté.
The sekala simmered away on the hob and the pandi curry came to a boil. As I tucked into the putté - my first involvement with a community I was yet to meet, my father-in-law wore a beam on his face and proudly educated me on what was to come.
We were getting ready for the annual gathering of the Coorgs in the UK- an eagerly awaited event at home. For six long years, my father-in-law oversaw these re-unions, with my mother-in-law in the background, co…