In my opinion, Indian women were the original creators of the concept of 'soul food'. Long before this became mainstream lingo, Indian soul food dominated households and made women bond with their kitchens. No matter what a wife was going through, she would retreat to her kitchen and become lost in a world of spices and fragrant chicken cooking on the stove. I remember what my mum would look like when I would wander into her kitchen - hair tied high up into a bun (the faint smell of Dabur Amla in the air), a bright red lungi tied around her waist to support her back, and hands chopping onions so fast they would put a Michelin chef to shame. My mum would cook even when there was plenty of food in the house. It was her way to escape the daily frustrations of life, packing a little bit of love into each puri that bobbed gently on the surface. To her, the kitchen wasn't a place to just cook food - it was her portal to a world where pain could be pounded into a ball of chappati dough, where sadness could be stirred away into a pot of butter chicken, and where love could be found in little diamonds of barfi.

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