Mixed Seven Dal Tadka

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka is born out of a tiny kitchen in Kolkata. I was trying to remember the taste of dal tadka that I had at home and not in a dhaba or restaurant. There’s a significant difference in the taste and ingredients. I was trying to capture that taste and natural goodness of homestyle dal tadka.

My mother used to make that with whole green moong dal or whole masoor dal with eggs in it. Through our difficult meals during childhood, we loved it as a welcome change from the usual yellow moong or masoor dal. Also, the addition of eggs made it a bit of a treat. That was our childhood.

Today we can afford to have eggs in meals- almost every day. But strangely having too much of it or excess of proteins has led to other repercussions.

This Mixed Seven Dal Tadka recipe goes well with chapatis or parathas. I am sharing this as a reminder that sometimes that balance of a memory of past and conscious awareness about the future helps us in the present.

Keeping it simple, it’s a welcome change in case you are tired of the same old boring dal recipe. And it has plenty of proteins for those with a vegetarian, vegan or eggetarian diet.

Getting variety into your meal plan is sometimes challenging when you are following a gym trainer. Sometimes you are just eating chicken breast, steamed dory or eggs in every meal. Or drinking a lot of protein shakes and taking different kinds of supplements.

Are you trying to feel a little more perked up after a difficult day or week with a tasty and yummy dish? Then I recommend this homecooked bowl of Mixed Seven Dal Tadka.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka for a Mixed Bag

This is a bit of a treat to celebrate and mourn.

I celebrate the fact that I do have my own kitchen today- it’s a blessing in disguise. It helps me to balance out my meals to heal my body and stay away from the pressures of a family that doesn’t really care too much about their health.

My mother is in a stage of her life where her own entertainment and passing on anxiety to others is what gives her some joy. Mostly her conversations are directed towards trying to run down or minimise any achievements of others. And then focus upon everything that is not ok with her children. Or others she finds around who can listen to her. It’s an old trick of hers born out of years of teaching in schools.

Today the lesson I receive from her is how she won’t take help. But she wants us to somehow be around while she whines and moans. This is something that I haven’t learnt very well.

My husband is an expert at saying No. He learnt it from his parents who said No every time to every attempt to build bridges.

So, here’s me in self-reflection trying to narrate a sad story. Men born to resist emotions and emotional women being forcefully taught to be more emotional. I don’t understand the logic. The inequality of the roles in households here is so stark that I understand we are unable to truly express our state of pain or trauma.

I have spent years being asked to “toughen up”. And when I am sick and ailing, I am told I am a “cruel woman”.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka for women protected by Men

When you see a woman crying for hours or days, what should you do?

According to my brother you should shut the door or go out for a walk or have a fun time with your friends. Then come back and tell the woman to “fix herself” without providing any help or support.

In fact, better still don’t take care of yourself to add further to her miseries. Drink, enjoy with others and come back to laugh at her pains. Keep on demanding food on the table as per your particular choices and definitely don’t pay. That apparently makes you a respectable and powerful man.

Same thing I saw with my husband. Same with my father-in-law. Basically, their motto in life is men should not be troubled by anything in the household. Especially not by wives, sisters or daughters in law. They should be bothered about politics, sports, global crises, healthcare tips to be given to other men like them. Things like that.

Women should be troubled by workplace, household, all family members and everything else in between.

And while you are doing that, finances are to be controlled by men. Or anybody else who is seen as part of your group of people trolling the women who actually work or try to work.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka to enable Freedom for Men

To balance such lopsided power equations, what do women do finally? They live, they work, they take care of others, they cry, they finally die or go to an ashram.

Or they try to seek a solution elsewhere from other friends or relatives. What happens then?

The same men turn around now and blame the woman for whatever decisions she took. Now he will appear and show how to fix it or do it properly. Or run her down by besmirching her reputation.

Does this sound like a script made in heaven for women? No. Certainly not.

It leaves them with very little time or energy to educate themselves, groom themselves, have the confidence to pursue any kind of growth or be peaceful and calm at workplace or home. It’s a simple way of saying “My way or the Highway“. So, this way- women should become truck drivers and men will get manicures and pedicures.

Extreme differences in nature, in upbringing, education, financial strength, family support and life experiences don’t allow for the balance required in any partnership. My husband’s partnership is suitable with a paid maid servant who is protected by other agencies. I wasn’t protected by anybody there.

Any attempts of mine to bring a balance will be consciously thwarted by the elders. They want the subjugation of women as maid servants or dumb cows who provide them with wealth.

You suddenly remember a cow is seen as Lakshmi by some. Others may look at a wife as a silent banana plant in the room. You get the fruits and then you actually eat or use the various parts of that plant. (That’s their context).

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka to glorify Engineering brains

Every living cell of my body- successfully destroyed through autoimmune disorder by inflicting more torture and stress. It was incomplete destruction- so there was use of more medicines or chemicals to do that.

My husband recommended annihilation of another wife in the service of his wonderful life. Extremely cleverly done over 13 years to safeguard his interests after repeated lying to others.

Use your own wife to discipline maid servants, parents, friends, everyone and then pretend to be protecting and rescuing them later calling your wife cruel woman. Let her serve you believing your lies for 13 years first.

Then in the 14th year you will suddenly become Shree Rama killing wife no 3 saying she was not Sita she was Surpanakha. Meri Sita koi aur hai. Wonderful storytelling, isn’t it?

Now is this enough to win your arguments about cruelty? Great. So, we have covered cruelty to humans, animals and plants. What’s a wife? Nothing.

He can keep on changing wives like changing old models of phone, laptop, tv, fridge, etc…for newer ones. You just write a letter saying thank you for services rendered for 13 years as cruel wife.

You break her part by part and dispose off in the grey market like you have learnt to do many other machines. Wonderful, isn’t it?

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka was preplanned

My story comes from understanding the complex narratives and stories built by others. I retain a deep pain of not being able to change this in any case. If there is somebody who understands and changes himself/herself – it is an uphill task.

This kind of a judgmental room is bereft of anyone who has a context of a babble of incoherent issues and problems. Nobody told me self-protection is cruel. Who was protecting the woman who was bullied and abused by her own spouse into not having any voice at all?

• Somebody had a problem with a child
• Somebody had a problem with his or her boss
• Sometimes there is a problem with ailing parent
• Sometimes it is to do with siblings, friends or extended family
• Somebody else has a problem with some people employed
• Sometimes you are ill due to many external factors

So bottom-line- nobody protected the one who was abused and bullied.

She just asked a simple question. “Where is our home?”

A person living in a foreign country with a work visa that had expired was not allowed to ask that question?

A question nobody answered for her. And she was killed for it.

Mostly there’s a lack of time and definitely the usual narrative of “I got no more fucks to give for anybody else’s problems“.

So how does sharing help? I realized that it helps the other remember that almost everybody has a few problems.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka seems irrelevant

People deal with life and others differently.

See this observation now that I am writing carefully after much consideration of several examples-

A son laughs or makes fun of his parent’s pain or miseries and is indulged with a smile and a warm dinner.

A daughter or daughter in law simply ignores or tries to suggest an alternative. But she is deemed to be cruel or harsh and asked to pay for that son’s dinner.

My learning through many years of trying to be there with elders is that no matter what you do, they will try to blame the person they find the “weakest link”. That’s how they are conditioned.

However, in the interest of others bringing up better children perhaps in future, I share my story again this Sunday.

I don’t have children but perhaps people can see the truth behind some of the examples that I share. A daughter or daughter in law without a child is seen as dispensable. Strangely enough- the same doesn’t extend to sons.

Denial of any wrongs by others and continuous assault on those they are trying to pull down or bring down to subjugate is a very ancient way of unleashing more stress and strife.

Stress is the biggest trigger for autoimmune disorder. Despite several calls for help nobody helped. I retain that memory- deeply etched. There was a lot of abuse and cruelty that led to me being where I am today.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka for self and others

Cutting off all possible emotional or physical nourishment to anybody close in life is another way to “punish” or deny. I endured it for more than 45 years of my life at the hands of politically wily elders. They bucketed people into “good people” and “bad people” all the time.

Eventually I saw my husband doing the same. Funnily he used and abused me. Discarded me into “evil/cruel people” bucket. I actually thought I was in the “useless people” bucket after so much of shouting and mockery from him. Wasn’t funny I can tell you. It was numbing and shutting down of all systems.

My head reeled at the impossible cruelty of such horribly false narratives changing constantly with each passing year. But we move on. Because we are still alive somehow.

Today I don’t know why simple tasks have to be made more complicated by people. Sometimes it’s just their way of trying to gain importance and acknowledgment as someone who matters.

I cooked a big bowl of this dal. I thought some of it can be shared with my mother and brother. She refused it controlling the admiration bucket in one direction. (Remember- I am to be put in the “cruel people” or “useless people” bucket, and she has to be in “good people” bucket).

All focus should be on her cooking now. But I still need to survive. So, I cooked it for myself and shared it with a helper who is unwell.

Why did I have to cook? Why not buy this?

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka is Not “Essential”

You can actually survive on boiled potatoes and rice also. I was told with great disdain by my helper who didn’t acknowledge the food that was shared. Good point, right? 🙂

Never get into “power struggle” with helpers.

Since the day I was born everybody has been at pains to make me understand I am nobody. If I die, nobody mourns my death.

This week we had a shocking and sad news of an ex-colleague and friend passing away. Many people are saddened- they are mourning his death.

What I actually thought was- Does he care? No.

He’s peaceful (already dead) and others go through the funeral rites to help themselves heal or to help his passage to next life. Whatever way you wish to see it.

I’m remembering him today. He was a patient listener, loved to narrate stories, funny, erudite and had a large circle of friends. He is survived by his wife and two lovely daughters. Even if I try, I cannot be in their shoes.

My own experience of several deaths of loved ones- my father, my grandmother, my uncles and aunts taught me to simply grieve. Some people are able to move past deaths easily. Others struggle.

As far as my husband is concerned- I was told repeatedly by others that he’s still alive. After 3 marriages, he is really tired and wishes to enjoy the company of fun people to narrate stories about wives who were cruel.

He wants all the benefits of his marriage to be retained and pass on all the pains and costs to the 3rd cruel wife so that he can enjoy free fun filled life. This Mixed Seven Dal Tadka is not essential in the larger scheme of things.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka is homemade with love

You can really make this dish spicy. But I am keeping it simple and lighter to digest.

I saw the death of a few friends as well- some from my life through their conscious presence or absence over the years. And my mother kept saying- we have to deal with our own problems all the time. This is coming from a person who has never actually lived on her own without any family member or helpers supporting her. So, there’s a significant difference in the life that I led from hers.

I was sent away from my home very early in life and lived almost 13-14 years without any family member by my side. I was earning and supporting my parents and brother. Later even after marriage, I was earning and supporting my husband and a new bigger extended family.

At the end, I saw clearly nobody actually supported me. They all still turned away and didn’t help me. Asked me to help them instead. They were firm in the belief that I could still push myself to continue to do the same after they had drained, depleted and abused me completely.

Is that nurturing, loving, helpful, kind or anything positive associated with humanity? No.

I repeat again for the benefit of those who are sitting comfortably with their own friends or family today. No.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka may have other variants

Here I was facing a new hypothesis that I was cruel. How was I cruel while I was battling severe autoimmune disorder, lack of housing, food, clothing, healthcare facilities, employment, financial support and any supporting network. Basic physical safety was also a concern.

Let me pause to understand this further. And let that sink in slowly for others. If I am cruel, I should definitely stay away from those who deem me to be cruel.

My healing process was never allowed by those who cried louder, bigger and definitely more effectively. Have you tried to reason with someone who knows very well that I cried for many years silently and it fell on deaf ears and blind eyes?

I sat and cried in front of walls, dead inanimate objects, inanimate unfeeling men or women and even tried inanimate machines. It was the same ending. I was just told- go and die somewhere quietly. You are completely dispensable. We are all much more important and hence our lives are more significant than yours.

Our problems and our work are worthy of an audience. Yours is not.

Focusing on food recipes, food and travel or food and art without any earnings- how does that help?

I don’t know how it helps others. I repeat the same thing. You share whatever you can while you live. I am somehow unable to die right now.

Passing on knowledge about this Mixed Seven Dal Tadka seems quite small. Especially considering it may have other variants. Yet here I am trying in my feeble voice to share it still.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka from a woman branded with a Scarlet Letter

Imagine taking care of people and then the same people calling you cruel. Well, can you wear that letter with pride? Like C for cruel. Ok, so you gave me a C for social media diplomacy. Never mind the F for humanity.

I am going to continue here irrespective.

Cooking my own food helped me. I came away – took some time to protect myself against abuse. Weirdly I was abused more in return. The people changed, but the narrative didn’t change irrespective of what I did. At least I could cook to eat a meal when I was hungry.

All I knew was nobody was bothered about my food, my health or my healing. Even if I tried to help others with food, concern or care for their health or healing, it was always misunderstood. I am still being held as an example of “cruel woman“.

Finally, I wiped out my tears and decided- let’s allow the liars to lie. Do write that in my epitaph after I die.

We rejoice and celebrate the death of “cruel woman”.

The abusers abused and then called themselves victims

You can’t even remind others about food? About their necessity to take care of their diet? Share recipes with others? Share food with others? Perhaps help them share their own stories and anecdotes? No? Even that is cruel?

Weird, right?

Basically, woman go and die. Or go to an ashram. Or become an unpaid labourer somewhere else. Be accused of cruelty again. What’s the point of my living then?

Should I commit suicide? I’m asking others who have been so pained by a woman who simply helped and supported while there were more violence and accusations heaped on her. Repeatedly by those who sat comfortably, cheated, raped, committed more fraud and abused women.

Today, I am observing and not participating in this “marketplace” of people aggressively attacking others. Dishonesty and cruelty are being justified through various means. I don’t feel happy about it.

More hurdles are placed in front of those who chose to speak the truth. Evasion and meanness of people is held up as examples of “leadership qualities”. I am really not learning much from that except that men and women are being taught simply to survive somehow somewhere.

In that same vein I continue- this is needed for survival. I have to share my side of the story because nobody heard me.

Mixed Seven Dal Tadka is an homage to survival

Despite many attempts to kill me, I am somehow still alive. I might as well share this in case it helps somebody else survive.

I observed quietly. Sons or daughters protected by mothers can get their mothers to cook for them for more than 50 years of their lives.

I didn’t get that without being reminded of the cost of the food, the labour undertaken by the mother and how I was a big burden all their lives. Interesting, twisted narrative to make the daughter or daughter in law work while sons sat, enjoyed and switched tv channels.

But it helped me to learn to make this for self and others. Irrespective of how I was called cruel, I saved myself and I saved others from death. Even if it was for a few years on this planet.

To those who were deemed as cruel to others cooking for them – I am helping you remember at one point somebody actually asked you to cook. Somebody actually survived because you fed them. And those very same people then wished death upon you to finance their drinks and parties. So, here’s me saying Cheers. From a distance.

Do drink more. Do party more. Definitely kill more women instead of saving them. That will make you a man apparently (?).

Is that the secret to narcissistic glory? What happens to the women who were abused and raped? Are we shoving them all under the carpet to enable a pristine clean reputation of abusers and their parents?

Just asking.

Footnote

Wasn’t my Choice

The Kids are gone, they are kids no more

I really have a bad eye sore

Strength was built over many years of doing

Simple tasks, sometimes a little boring chore

Was it easy or was it really difficult

Ask the one who had to do it quietly

With no applause and no encore

In fact, when there was a babble of voices

Inner fears and outer demons of difficult choices

Doors were open but you didn’t have access

Asked to try another door and yet another door

Finally, you found everything was a mirage

Of polite acceptance while you were rejected repeatedly

Later the spoils of war were divided after you were sent home

Many of them laughed having been able to conquer

Purported “alien” enemy through guile and wile

All they had to do was keep on waiting

To help get their dues after stalking for a while

In the end, when you took it all upon yourself

It was easy for the other to say repeatedly

Wasn’t my choice. Wasn’t my voice.

Melting Lemon Drop 16. 08. 2026