Stories We Tell Ourselves

Internalised & manifested into reality

Hello!

Namrata and I are moving into a new house, tomorrow. In our new house, we don't have an induction cooking hob but a gas one. The one where we cook atop a naked flame.

I learnt how to cook — properly cook, as in full three course meals — when I moved to London in 2022. Ever since, I've cooked only on induction hobs and I must say I feel far more comfortable around one. It also helps that they are easier to clean. Before moving to London though, I never could cook. I even joke about in my Tall Tales story Mama's Boy.

I never cooked in India. Staying in my parent’s home, having help easily available, it never mattered. But what really clinched the matter was the story I told myself (and others):

or the extended edition:

I can't cook to safe my life.

Or the remix:

I'm useless in the kitchen.

All my life I've been feeding this story to myself and the universe around me, not just believing it to be true but making it so. The more I repeated this story, the truer it got.

Over the last couple of months, I'd been reading the God Killer trilogy by Hannah Kaner. Within those pages, gods exist, and these gods are given shape and form through human need, wants, desires, and the stories they tell. They feed on human belief.

The stories we tell ourselves are similar, they become more and more real, the deeper we believe in them. Repeating a story, often results it becoming a kind of truth you hang around yourself. This thing you tell yourself, it’s what you are.

But in London, learning to cook is a necessity. I started slow and every time I made a meal on the induction hob, following recipes and instructions from the many cooks before me, I delighted in its sweet alchemy. How could mere ingredients turn into this tasty meal? I felt like a magician, creating meals that not only felt satisfyingly warm in the belly but also, delicious on the tongue. (Outrageous, I know!)

Cooking, experimenting with ingredients and spices is now quite normal for me, and I often go on a cooking spree on days I feel like I haven’t accomplished much. Sometimes, feeding yourself and your partner on a bad day is all you need to survive. It puts life into simple perspective.

Now, I don't repeat the story to myself that I can't cook. I can cook and I cook really well too. It's become a source of joy for me and Namrata and I share many evenings cooking up a storm.

The new house though comes with a new hob with a gas connection and flame. I have never used one, and two years ago, making a such big change would have felt drastic. I couldn't cook then, and if you change the instrument, I definitely can't cook. But that's not the story I tell myself.

Namrata worries — and rightfully so — but I believe that my culinary skills have grown and the story I choose to tell myself is that I will adapt to this new device and quickly learn how to use it to the best of my ability. And I have complete faith in the story I tell myself.

I’ll let you know how it goes, next month.

What story are you telling yourself?

See you on the other side,

Akshay

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PS: The other story I choose to tell myself is that I can't make rotis, because Namrata makes them so much better and I can't be bothered. On the gas stove, they will be phenomenal. I can't wait! 😝