"Love, Self-Care, and the Art of Pomegranate Peeling"

There has never been a greater hater of Pomegranates than me. I did not like its texture and

found peeling it extremely tedious and boring. The effort I put into peeling the

pomegranates was not proportional to the enjoyment I derived from eating them (I'm so proud of myself for using math language to talk about pomegranates). I have always been told how essential it is for our body and the wonders of consuming pomegranates. But I have always stayed away from them. My go-to fruits are apples, bananas and watermelon in the summer. I would try other fruits occasionally when I feel the urge to get control of my life, and I would make a plan to eat more healthily. After two days of religiously eating the fruits, I would get tired,  tell myself it's okay to eat everything in moderation and forget all about eating fruits until the next time I get the urge to fix my life again. 

On a trip out with friends a few years back, I ordered a mocktail with a fancy name (a guilty pleasure). One sip of the drink, and I was amazed. It was delicious. I was marvelling at the drink, and when I enquired about the contents of the said drink, the server innocently told me it was just pomegranate juice and Soda. Although outraged at myself for drinking an overpriced pomegranate drink, I could not digest the knowledge that a pomegranate tasted so divine. Let me tell you, for the next many, many days, this piece of information kept nagging me and toyed with my long-held hatred of the fruit. Finally, saying enough is enough, I went to a juice shop nearby to put all the arguments in my mind to rest. With one sip of the drink, I knew I was doomed. I hated the fruit with a passion but could not deny my newfound love for the juice. It was a revelation. However, once I realised that LHS in this case (peeling the Pomegranate) was still not equating to RHS (My love for juice), I decided to forget the pomegranate and move on with life. (My math teacher would be very proud of my math puns)

My sister and I have been working in the same city and living together for the past year. We clash on almost everything, including what to eat. I wish I could go back in time to tell my younger self to enjoy being younger because I didn't realise that a large part of adulting was only deciding what to eat, shopping for the ingredients, making the said thing to eat, washing the dishes only to repeat. I was happy being young and delusional. Anyway, my sister is the “soup, salads and juice” kind of person, and I was a “paratha, curd rice, dal and sabzi” person. How we came to a compromise is a story for another day, but living with my sister, I started to drink fresh vegetable juice frequently in the morning. I began to enjoy it so much that my sister told me that our vegetable budget had increased. Instead of eating vegetables, I was practically inhaling them (to be fair to her, I was putting every vegetable in the blender to make a concoction and gulping it down in a go). 

Impressed and proud that her grown-up daughters are finally behaving like adults and eating healthy (though I seriously doubt if my mother would consider us adults if she saw how my sister and I still fight), my mother gave my sister a juicer for her birthday. I cannot believe I am saying this, but I was very excited at the prospect of using that juicer. ( I am slowly turning into my mother and aunt.) I had been travelling and was away from home for a few months. So, the first thing I did when I returned home was inspect the juicer thoroughly. I was giggling and laughing the entire time. Luckily, I was the only one at home. (Although if there were any ghosts in attendance, I'm afraid they would question their choice to haunt my house.) I immediately put the juicer to the test and was pretty pleased with the results.

A few days later, I had used up all the vegetables for the juice and was too lazy to go shopping early in the morning. All I had left was a pomegranate which was sadly looking at me,  the one I had conveniently ignored since the week I returned. The scene of tasting the pomegranate juice flashed in my mind, and I decided to brave the tedious task of peeling the pomegranate. I am very proud to say that I successfully peeled the pomegranate, juiced and drank it.  Now, here I must say that I feel genuinely sorry for the hate I have given the pomegranate all these years. To compensate, I have become obsessed with the fruit and have found ways to decrease the peeling time and effort. I feel very accomplished and proud of myself.

A good friend once told me that if someone peels a pomegranate for you, it means that they genuinely love you. From hating pomegranates with a passion to being excited to buy, peel and juice them, I have come a long way. I am also practising the truest form of self-love ( and, of course, love for my sister since I’m sharing the pomegranate juice with her). And so, I would like to  dedicate a song that I used to sing with my students to pomegranates: 

“Skidamarink a dink a dink,

Skidamarink a doo,

I love you.

I love you in the morning,

And in the afternoon,

I love you in the evening,

And underneath the moon.

Oh!

Skidamarink a dink a dink,

Skidamarink a doo,

I love you.”