Anjali was 29, and she could not taste anything.
Not because of Covid. Doctors said tongue is fine. But she knew – dal was just water. Sugar was just sand.
It started after her divorce. But the real story started 15 years earlier.
Her Father’s love was her taste.
Her father was a KSRTC bus driver. Salary was small, hands were always cracked, shirt always had diesel smell. But every Sunday, he had one duty.
He would wake up at 4:30 AM. Quietly go to kitchen so her mother could sleep. And make one thing – ghee roast with dosa, only for his daughter.
He would not let her eat herself. He would sit in front of her, tear a small piece, dip it in chutney, and feed her with his own rough, cracked hands.
He would say, “Pehle khushbu le, phir kha. Khana jaldi nahi, pyaar se khate hain.”
She would laugh, “Appa, you make it every Sunday, same taste.”
He would say, “Taste will be same, beta. But your Appa’s love will make it sweeter every year.”
She never understood that line. Until he was gone.
Then she got married.
Her husband’s house was big, AC, big fridge full of food. But there was no smell of love.
First day in kitchen, her mother-in-law said, “We don’t waste ghee here. And don’t stay long in kitchen, smell goes into curtains.”
She cooked for 6 people. Chapatis, sabji, dal. She ate in the end, standing near the sink, cold food, while washing dishes. No one ever asked, “Anjali, how is the food? Did you eat?”
Once she made her father’s ghee roast. Her husband said, “Too much ghee. My mother never cooked like this. Don’t make again.”
That night she ate alone. She took one bite and it had no taste. She thought it’s because she was sad.
For 5 years, she cooked love for everyone, but no one cooked love for her. She slowly forgot what it feels like to be fed. She forgot what it feels like to be a daughter.
Two years ago, her father died. She was in her husband’s house, on her periods, and her mother-in-law said, “Don’t go, it’s not good to travel during this. He is gone anyway.”
She didn’t go to see him for the last time. She didn’t get to eat from his hands one last time.
She never cried. She just swallowed it. Like she swallowed tasteless food every day.
After divorce, she came back to her mother’s house. Her mother gave her same dabba – her father’s old steel dabba where he used to bring ghee roast for her.
She opened it. Empty.
And that day, her tongue completely died. She could not taste anything.
Her mother took her to a Vaidya in Mysore.
He didn’t check her tongue. He checked her pulse and said, “You have not lost taste. You have lost your father’s hands.”
He asked, “When was the last time someone fed you with love?”
Anjali broke.
She said, “My Appa… I never got that love in my husband’s house. I was a cook there, not a daughter. In my Appa’s house, I was a princess. One bite from him was enough. In my husband’s house, I ate full plate but my stomach was always empty.”
Vaidya said, “In Ayurveda, taste is not on tongue, beta. Taste lives in heart. Jahan pyaar hai, wahi swaad hai. Where there is love, there is taste. Your tongue closed itself because for 5 years you ate without love. It was protecting you from eating poison.”
He gave her 3 rules, no medicine.
- For 7 days, cook in your father’s old dabba only.
- Before eating, keep one empty chair in front of you – imagine your Appa is sitting there, feeding you.
- Eat with your hands, slowly, and allow tears if they come.
First 2 days, she just cried looking at empty chair. No food went inside.
Third day, she made ghee roast. Hands were shaking. The ghee smell filled the house – same smell like Sunday mornings. She sat on the floor, kept empty chair in front, closed eyes.
For a second, she felt her father’s cracked hand touching her head. She heard his voice, “Pehle khushbu le, phir kha..…
She Forgot How To Taste
It Started in her husband’s kitchen. It ended with her father’s old steel box.
When Food Stopped Having Any Taste
For 7 years after her marriage, she ate everything on her plate. Roti, dal, chawal, sabzi.
But she tasted nothing.
Her tongue was fine. Her reports were normal. Doctors said, “It’s just stress.”
Stress was not in her tongue. It was in her kitchen.
The Day Ghee Became An Expense
She was 24. New bride. First day in new kitchen.
She made dal exactly like her father made it – with one spoon of ghee on top.
Her mother-in-law looked at that spoon and said, “Don’t waste ghee.”
Three words.
In her father’s house, ghee meant love. On Sundays he would pour two spoons and say “aur le beta.”
In her husband’s house, ghee meant expense.
That day she learned to cook by measuring, not by feeling. And when you cook without feeling, you slowly stop tasting.
What Ayurveda Says About This
In Ayurveda, taste is not just of the tongue. It is of the heart.
We call it Rasa and Bhava.
Bhava jaisa, Rasa waisa. The emotion you carry while cooking becomes the taste of the food.
If you cook in fear, in guilt, or to prove yourself – your own body stops receiving the rasa.
Why This Happens To So Many Women
This is not just her story.
When the kitchen becomes a place of testing instead of loving.
When food becomes a duty instead of seva.
When no one ever asks you – “What do YOU want to eat?”
Taste slowly disappears.
She Did Not Lose Her Taste After Divorce
People thought she lost her taste after divorce because she was sad.
No.
She had lost it years ago. Divorce just made her notice it. Because for the first time, she was not busy proving herself in someone else’s kitchen.
The Steel Dabba That Brought Everything Back
After divorce, she went to her father’s house for three days.
On the third day, her father brought his old steel dabba. Same ghee.
He put hot rice on a plate, poured two full spoons of ghee, and said, “Kha le beta, kam padega toh aur dunga.”
She cried.
For the first time in seven years, she could taste salt. She could taste ghee. She could taste love.
The Final Truth
She didn’t lose her taste after divorce. She lost it on the very first day in her husband’s kitchen — when she was told not to waste ghee, the same ghee her father used to pour with love.
Disclaimer: This is an anonymized story for informational purpose only. It is not medical advice. Please consult a professional for personal concerns.
Image Credit: Fa Barboza on Unsplash