Spice of Life: Meals to memories at our old dining table
My grandfather chose a humongous, eight-seater, for a family of four, specifically to accommodate guests, reflecting his belief in hospitality, generosity and community hosting. He was a firm believer that a meal shared around the dining table is one of life’s simplest yet greatest joys.
Our dining table holds a special place in the family’s inheritance. It was the first piece of furniture bought by my grandfather after saving his salary for almost a year, from his first job as a teacher, in the school where he had once been a student, and later proudly rose to become its principal.
To him, the dining table was not merely furniture but a testament to his hard work, a witness to his journey from the days of being a student to a man able to provide for his family and open his home to others. His leadership was not just about managing the school, but also about nurturing a sense of community and belonging, just as he had done around his beloved dining table.
My grandfather chose a humongous, eight-seater, for a family of four, specifically to accommodate guests, reflecting his belief in hospitality, generosity and community hosting. He was a firm believer that a meal shared around the dining table is one of life’s simplest yet greatest joys.
When my grandfather became a member of the state legislative assembly, political discussions around the dining table took on a new intensity. His role in public service brought a host of guests —colleagues, activists, and local leaders to our dining table, shaping ideas that could influence change far beyond our home and at times turning foes into political allies. These conversations, filled with passion and diverse perspectives, were as much a part of the table’s legacy as my grandmother’s simple yet hearty meals that were shared around it.
Our five-decade-old dining table today is a repository of memories, with each mark and stain telling a story. The table has become worn, its surface scarred by countless moments — spilled tea, chutney stains from hurried breakfasts, and the scratches of eager hands reaching for home-made jams and pickle kept far off on the table’s corner. But each imperfection only adds to its character, a reflection of the love and life that had unfolded around it. I remember how it used to creak, with the weight of big boxes of countless sweets and fruit baskets on family gatherings; the table was always full, no matter the occasion.
While its gigantic size, and old teakwood failed to charm the aesthetics of our home, it very well matches with my family’s zeal to host. We have had many conversations to replace it with a contemporary, small-sized dining table, but every time we think of parting with it, a beautiful memory crosses our minds, of the festival and holiday feasts, where the table was laden with food and laughter, or the quiet suppers spent peacefully sipping tomato soup. It’s where we celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, told stories, and sometimes, just sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company.
As I sit at it now, I can almost hear the echoes from the past conversations, feel the warmth of the family that once surrounded it, and realise how much of who each one of us is today was shaped by the simple, yet profound, moments spent around our beloved dining table. The dining table is a witness to a home filled with friends, family, and even strangers who quickly became friends.
Even today, our dining table is a place of lively conversation, laughter, good food, and moments of connection — just as my grandfather had always hoped. Time may weather its surface, but the memories embedded in it will only grow stronger with each passing year.
The writer is a Hoshiarpur-based freelance contributor and can be reached at bagga.aastha23@gmail.com
