Author: Sunanda Vashisht
Publication: Sunandavashisht.com
Date: January 19, 2015
URL:   http://www.sunandavashisht.com/lotus-root-in-houston/

Standing in a Chinese store in Houston few days ago, I heard the same words again. My mother explaining to the lady in the Chinese grocery store in America “It is long and usually white in color. In my home, in Kashmir it is widely available. You know Kashmir? India?”

The Chinese lady in the store stood there expressionless. I jumped in like I always do when breakdown in conversations is imminent – ‘Lotus roots, I said loudly. Do you have any lotus roots? Smile returned to the lady’s face, and she pointed in the direction where we could find lotus roots. My mother saw the lotus roots and immediately disapproved. This is not like what we get at home.’

We nevertheless bought some Chinese lotus roots and in the car for next half an hour my mother went over the same routine that I am so used to hearing after such shopping trips. ‘This is not what is found in Kasheer. Around Shivratri, I used to buy several bunches of nadru. Shyamaji, our neighbor, would call me whenever the grocer would stock new produce. Together we would go to Habba kadal and buy”. And she goes on and on.

This is the story I have heard hundreds of times. In sabzi mandis across Delhi where my mother lives and often goes hunting for lotus roots and haakh ( collard green), she looks for that one lotus root that will look and taste like the one she use to cook and eat in Kashmir. All her stories start with ‘In my home in Kashmir’. She has lived in Delhi since 1990, but the home remains only in Kashmir. All stories start with ‘In Kashmir’. 25 years later she still judges the weather by what I call Kashmir thermometer. ‘Today it is so hot, Kasheer never used to get this hot’. Or ‘Today is so cold, just like Kasheer”.

Kashmiri Pandits in exile have discovered a unique way of greeting each other. After customary Namaskar, the first question usually is ‘Where did you live in Kashmir’? This is invariably followed by ‘Did you also flee in 1990?’

It has been 25 years today since we fled our homes. My parents’ generation was the worst hit. We were the children of conflict, but our parents became survivors and providers during conflict. T his generation got sandwiched between their parents who were old and could do little else but grieve and their children who were too young to understand anything. They had no time to grieve; they had no time to protest, and no time to scream injustice. They were busy providing for their children and parents. They were busy ensuring that their families may have lost everything valuable, but their values should not be compromised with. This generation had only one objective. Every child in exile must be sent to school, every child in exile must be independent, and every child in exile should be able to stand on his /her own feet. Every child should be raised with a sense of dignity. This was a huge task, and they did it remarkably well. In the process, they suffered deeply. Many people get uprooted because of natural disasters; many people get uprooted because of personal tragedies but those few who are forced to flee for honor and life and in that order, it is very difficult to make peace with the world.

‘Do you remember the halwai who used to make lotus root pakodas near Bray Kujan?’ Mother asked me. I nodded not looking at her. ‘You should learn how to make lotus Root yakhni, I will teach you‘. I nodded again not looking at her. I was driving on an empty road on the way back home from Chinese Store. This road looks like boulevard in Srinagar. ‘No mom, it doesn’t. This is not boulevard by the Dal Lake. This is Houston. We are thousands of miles away from home. Nothing looks like home here. Stop comparing everything’ I snapped. My mother didn’t say anything.