Aama ko Chulo

It had been eight years since I last visited my grandmother. After my Grade 10 final examinations, I finally went back to visit her.

Living alone, she had the same routines I remembered from years ago.

Early in the morning, I watched her prepare her usual dal, bhat and tarkari over a firewood stove, adding small sticks into the flames as smoke slowly spread through the dim lit kitchen. An induction stove and a gas cylinder were resting nearby somewhere in the corner.

Yet every day, she used the firewood stove. "Food tastes better in a wood fire" she told me.

"And getting the gas cylinder refilled is too much of a hassle to deal with." She was actually right about one thing tho.

The meal she prepared that morning definitely remains one of the most delicious meals I have ever eaten.

Yet, as I sat beside the warm stove, I couldn’t ignore the constant emission of heavy smoke filling up the room.

The same smoke that added flavour to her recipe was also in the air my grandma breathed on a daily basis.

So many individuals and families like my grandma still continue to use firewood even though they have access to modern appliances.

For many people out there these firewoods carry their culture, tradition, and memory they have lived throughout their life. For me, that morning meal was indeed unforgettable.

But the thought that stayed with me was simple: sometimes people most exposed to pollution are not strangers in a crowded city, but the people waiting for us at home.