Bateta Nu Shaak has been a staple in my life since I came out of the womb. A constant as grades passed me by and my height grew to reach above the counter, and friends were gained and lost. The varied spices graced my tongue every year on birthdays, graduations, and 4+ days, with the soft potatoes incorporated creating the perfect comfort meal. Coming in from the cold wind that kissed my face to the warm spices that graced my presence, reminded me of my beautiful heritage and the ultimate comfort. Every birthday, the carefully created shaak was spooned into my plate with a rotli that was made with love by my mother. A traditional Gujarati meal, it had almost become a personality trait. Everyone from my aunts, to my mother, to family friends, knew that this was my favourite shaak. Trips to their houses always involved it and every variation was savoured with each bite, although no one could ever beat the one closest to my heart. This specific concentration of potatoes to gravy to seasonings always knew how to crack my heart open in the best way and stuff it with love. Even now, after long classes involving Shakespeare and polynomials, I get the privilege of going home knowing that I will be smothered with my favourite food that always gives me a pep in my step. Whenever the delicious food of my beloved mother and heritage graces my tongue, I am immediately sent back through the past versions of myself who have come and gone. Every time it makes me tear up knowing that no matter what, I will always have Bateta Nu Shaak to remind me of my childhood years, even after my hairs have grayed and my skin has wrinkled.
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