Adam emerged from the sea of people on the plaza. He was tall and easy to see. He grabbed Krishna and swiftly put her up on his shoulders above the crowd. Her face lit up as bright as the big tree. We waited in line for the elevator, and he put her down as we went in. Once downstairs in the shopping arcade, we went into the small VIP area to get our skates, joining a couple of other families there. Beyond the doors, I saw a steady stream of skaters, all in a bunch, going around and around the rink like a school of fish. How were we going to wade into that? Adam helped Krishna with her tiny little rental skates, and I somehow managed to bend over and get mine on in spite of the puffball coat. A man helping his own daughter and son with their skates smiled at Adam and Krishna and said, “What a lovely child.” “Thank you!” Adam and I both responded in unison. We looked at each other and I smiled sheepishly, but also couldn’t help but feel territorial. It was a rare and strange occurrence for us to experience the feeling of joint pride.
“You ready, Mommy?” Krishna asked. I nodded silently as Adam led her to the entrance of the rink. He patiently helped her walk on her skates. She looked so small next to him. Beyond their silhouettes, I could see the people, the steady stream of skaters. I hurried and went out ahead, onto the ice first, and held on to the rink wall. I needed some air. The spectators looking down from above made me feel like I was in a Roman amphitheater. A knot of teenagers whizzed by, followed by a young couple holding hands, going slowly and trying to steady themselves. An elderly woman and a young man who looked like her grandson glided by arm in arm. They looked like they had been skating all their lives. I thought then about my future seventy-year-old self, bringing Krishna’s son or daughter to this very place my mother had first brought me. There were families of all sorts of sizes and colors. In the middle of the rink twirled skaters who looked almost semiprofessional, dressed in lighter skating costumes, elegant cloth covers over their own skates. They pirouetted and glided with swan-like elegance, and the other, average skaters falling and tripping behind them in the far curve of the rink made for a comical backdrop.
The spirit of the crowd took me out of my own anxiety. Everyone was so happy. Everyone was smiling. But no two smiles were bigger than Krishna’s and her dad’s. You could see her two little dimples piercing deep into her chin just under her upturned rosy lips, pressed tightly together. Her cheeks looked like they would burst. “You ready, Mommy?” Adam repeated. I took a deep breath. We started out very slowly on the ice, Krishna in the middle, holding each of our hands. Since none of us were that steady, we stayed on the outer perimeter, going very slowly. We were new at this. At all of it. It felt dangerous, like the ice was thin and might break open at any moment to swallow us whole. But the ground did not open up. Ahead of us, I saw a couple of kids tumble and fall, but get up instantly before we reached them. They skated onward like nothing had happened.
I glanced down at Krishna, who was having some trouble staying upright on her skates. But she hung in there, joyful and excited. We went around a few times and got the hang of it, more or less. The three of us managed to stay vertical, as well as dodge those who fell in our path. Little by little, we gained our confidence. We picked up speed, too. This was the challenge we had been working up to all these many months. It felt exhilarating to be gliding on that ice, the three of us together holding hands. I even felt brave enough to let go of Krishna’s hand and skate backward briefly, facing Adam and our daughter. Years of skating in the city came back to my legs. The rink was too busy to do it for long, but I was glad I had taken the risk. I asked them if they wanted to stop and take a break. Adam looked at me and smiled. “No. Are you kidding?” he said. “I want hot chocolate! I want cookies!” Krishna pleaded. We skated around a bit more and then went back into the rental area for a break. As we sat back in the warmth and had our snacks, I thought about where I would be in my life the next time I came to this rink. Being here had always been a special occasion, a treat to be savored, remembered. On no occasion was this more so than that evening.
The baby was getting older. We had done a pretty good job of maintaining a civil, polite rapport between us in front of her, even through the worst of it. We had been successfully following through on our monthly get-togethers, so Krishna could experience the feeling of having her family together. But it was Adam who had been the driving force behind the idea. The dinners and outings were arranged and coaxed into existence by Adam and Adam alone. I could see he was trying very hard to create a new history for us as friends.
I left Adam and Krishna inside and went to skate by myself, so I could try going faster. After a few rounds, I got my speed up pretty good. I saw Adam and Krishna enter the rink. I sped up enough to go around once and pass them. They tried to catch up, and then, like a pile of dominos, we all fell on top of one another. Krishna and I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get up, and we struggled to stand, our bodies tangled on the ice. Adam got up and extended his hand to help me. Krishna was scrambling around my feet. She looked up toward me. “Mom, take his hand. Let Dad help you.”
Family was important to both Adam and me, and I wanted to somehow instill that in Krishna, too. But I could not underline the importance of family unless I accepted the whole of hers. So rather than be mired in the ugliness of our past, I came to be propelled forward by our shared love for her. In a sense, it was the same love and forgiveness Teddy had shown me, unconditional in the wake of everything that had happened, boundless in its generosity. It was easy to follow his example for Krishna’s sake. I am sure Krishna’s father had some forgiving to do as well in my regard. If he had trouble with this, he did not show it, or speak of needing anything from me to do it.
“Yeah, Mommy; let me help you.”
We went back out into the night, the three of us together, skating hand in hand.
acknowledgments
First of all, my deep gratitude goes to Daniel Halpern, Libby Edelson, and Luke Janklow, without whom I could never have written this book. And to my assistant Tucker Gurley, without whom I would never have gotten through the last several years. Undying thanks also to all my family, especially the women in my clan and most of all to my mother, Vijaya Lakshmi, because my story is also her story, and she has had the courage and grace to let me tell it as I see fit. My thanks also to Krishna’s father, Adam Dell. And to Salman for planting the seed so many years ago over tandoori on Lexington Avenue, for being a cheerleader and handing me Rousseau. Thank you to Susan Roxborough for being the kind of friend and in-house editor every writer should have. Thank you to my many recipe testers like Jolie Hunt, Judith Sutton, and my writing assistant Caroline Perkins, as well as to those who read early versions or heard pieces of the book over late nights and many telephone calls, including Sharon Sperling, Kristin Powers, Bonnie Takhar, Jason Comis, Dr. Sylvia Karasu, and so many more. Thank you to JJ Goode for understanding that I had to write this book on my own, a different book than when I started. And much gratitude goes to the late great Nora Ephron for her generous mentorship in the last year of her life, without which this book would not have its title. Thank you finally to my late grandfather, K. C. Krishnamurti, and my beloved grandmother, CVS Rajilakshmi, for instilling in me the love of books and cooking, two things I could not live without.
about the author
PADMA LAKSHMI is the Emmy-nominated host of the highly rated and critically acclaimed, Emmy-winning Bravo series Top Chef, and the author of two cookbooks: Tangy, Tart, Hot & Sweet and the award-winning Easy Exotic. In addition to her culinary achievements, Lakshmi has contributed to such magazines as Vogue, Gourmet, and Harper’s Bazaar (UK and US), and penned a syndicated column on fashion and food for the New York Times. Her television-hosting credits include Planet Food and Padma’s Passport, as well as other programs in the United States and abroad. A global style icon and the first internationally successful Indian supermodel, Lakshmi also helms companies of her own such as the Padma Collection and Easy Exotic.
Lakshmi is a cofounder of the E
ndometriosis Foundation of America. Since 2009, the organization has advocated for early diagnosis, promoted research, and raised awareness in the medical community and the greater public about this devastating chronic disease which affects over 190 million women worldwide.
She lives in New York City with her daughter.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
credits
COVER DESIGN BY ALLISON SALTZMAN
COVER PHOTOGRAPH © JENNY GAGE/TOM BETTERTON
copyright
The names and identifying characteristics of some of the individuals featured throughout this book have been changed to protect their privacy.
LOVE, LOSS, AND WHAT WE ATE. Copyright © 2016 by Padma Lakshmi. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-220261-1
EPub Edition March 2016 ISBN 9780062202628
16 17 18 19 20 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
about the publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com
* Moong lentils are also fine, as they are usually used in traditional versions of kichidi.
Love, Loss, and What We Ate Page 33