A Slice of Joy

My mother had been nagging me to register her into Cookups for about a year now. She had gotten to know about it from our neighbour and was elated to find out about a platform which will finally allow her to put her passion to work— cooking.

My mother’s mornings begin with watching cooking channels on Youtube and experimenting with new recipes to give life to her concoctions. Whoever has tasted her food has become a fan of her cooking. Our house is nothing short of a restaurant which finds itself with guests thronging in, requesting the ‘chef’ of the house to cook the ‘Dum Qeema’ they ate the last time or the ‘Kunafa’ she baked on Eid.

Becoming a registered cook with Cookups requires a kitchen inspection. The night before the inspection, mother carried out a thorough assessment of her own, scrutinising every minute detail, making sure there is not one flaw. It seemed as though she had a mammoth exam the next day; she spent the night restless and sleepless— after all, it was Judgement Day for her.

Thankfully enough, they were pleased with how she maintained her kitchen and she got her registration. We posted a couple of pictures on Cookups and waited for an order to arrive. We would find her constantly staring at the mobile app to see if an order were placed. Two weeks passed before one afternoon that her phone beeped a notification, her first order had come through.

I vividly remember the time when the delivery person arrived to collect her first order. It seemed as though I was looking at a child who discovered how to walk for the first time. Her happiness knew no bounds as she hopped to our front door to hand the package over. She wore a big, accomplished smile as she couldn’t stop giggling. It was a surreal moment for her, something that she probably could never have fathomed, to finally be able to pick up her passion as a profession. She looked as if she felt reborn.

I had been so stupid to think that someday I will buy her a car, a home to finally make her happy. But little did I realise that her true happiness was right there, bringing comfort to us and others with the aroma, warmth, spices and impeccable taste of her cooking.

I stood there, trying hard to not miss a moment and hold on to this memory, for this was the epitome of happiness. I felt accomplished, accomplished to have helped my mother bring her passion to life, to give her purpose.

Alas, a month into her new venture, we woke up to the news of Cookups shutting down operations. It was a dark moment for us all and it was evident from my mother’s dejected smile that she was hurt. Thank you Cookups for all the memories you gave to us for the short span of time you were there with us. Thank you for giving thousands of households, like ours, happiness, joy, validation and most importantly, hope.