LIFE TIES
A recipe for relationships
Taru Bahl

RANI'S cakes had a language of their own. She swore by the old-fashioned ovens handed down by her mother. Though she had the latest gadgetry, she still relied on them for that perfect sponge cake, the base for all her mouth-watering cakes and puddings. For her, baking was a cathartic process, something that not only allowed all her creative juices to flow unhindered but also helped her wash away the strains and disappointments of a life which had seen a lot of upheaval. Her health which had deteriorated to the extent of nearly getting her bed-ridden, revived not by any miracle cures but simply by the feel-good factor and the positivity which emanated from the long hours she spent at her ‘work station’—the cozy cheerful European-styled large kitchen.

Topping her cakes with layers of chocolate and cream, before embellishing them with coloured hand-made sugar roses, peppered with gems, lollipops and painted accessories depending on the theme, one could see that her cake-baking exercise was no less than an architect or designer’s creation. What made the million-dollar difference was the love that she put into each of her cakes, personalising it to suit the user.

Interestingly, in spite of doing close to a dozen cakes every day she still managed to incorporate a newness in each one of them. Nowhere did you see her attention flagging or a predictability creeping into her ideas. Gradually, the entire family got involved. If her daughter helped with some of the motif painting of cartoons or other figures, her son was the official taster and her driver and helper were reliable handy men. Her husband spent hours chatting with her in the kitchen, updating her on all that had happened during the day. The kitchen had enough space to fit in everybody. It was like a magnet which drew them all in and then magically uplifted them, dissipating the day’s tensions. They were, as it were, rejuvenated by just being in the secure and warm space created by Rani.

For many years she had poured in all her maternal love into her cooking. The circle gradually expanded with her obliging friends and family. For years, she had pooh-poohed friends’ suggestion to launch her own enterprise by agreeing to take orders, hiring more help and maybe having an outlet too. For one, she undermined her talent and for another she did not want to commercialise something that was such a source of joy for her. When she did decide to take orders, she still insisted on operating out of home, using the best ingredients, things she would feel were safe and worthy of her own family. Though she now accepted a charge for her cakes, she never compromised on the quality. Within a few years, she was a name associated with quality.

In fact, as the word spread there was another tag associated with Rani’s cakes. They came were supposed to be "luck." Which is how her wedding cakes became very popular. For a Punjabi clientele who did not follow the Christian trend of having cakes for weddings, this was a pleasant change. Rani’s three-layered wedding cakes became a rage and her bulk clientele comprised of engaged couples coming in to place their orders. The hour-long ordering session was always unhurried, with Rani giving her suggestions. Finally, the cake when it did come out, was a labour of love and it came with blessings which enveloped not just the couple in question and their families but also Rani.

When Alpana walked in one morning to place the order of a wedding cake for her brother, Rani intuitively knew that she was soon going to become a part of their lives. Her favourite nephew had been unable to decide on the girl of his dreams and the family was getting worried lest he lose the eligible bachelor tag. Rani was gripped with a sense of urgency. She did not want to lose Alpana. A quick call was made to her sister and once she got the go-ahead signal, she approached the girl’s parents for her hand in marriage. In spite of the fact that she knew so little about them, there was a conviction that she would be perfect. The family had reservations which were not misplaced. They had come from Africa and were in town only to marry their son. Alpana had lived abroad for over a decade and they were not even mentally ready to wed her, leave alone take the decision of basing her in India. A polite denial was however not acceptable to Rani.

Not one to take rash impulsive decisions she was surprised at how persistently she was trying to play matchmaker. Her sister tried counselling her telling her to forget it, more so since the girl’s side had made their stance clear but Rani was unable to let Alpana go. She did some investigations and found a common friend who knew the family. A week before they were to depart for Africa, she again made her request and this time wonder of wonders, they agreed to a meeting. Rani’s house was the venue and what a host she turned out to be. The table full of delicacies had never looked so beautiful. Much like a fairytale, the boy and girl took to each other immediately. The families felt they were perfectly suited and all reservations were shelved as the couple decided to tie the knot as soon as possible.

A year later and the families are still unable to figure out the mysterious factor that made the alliance possible. The girl has integrated seamlessly into the family. It is as if it was meant to be. Rani’s magic wand had done the trick.

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