Biography 324: My father was cooking in the kitchen.

 I was studying at our local school. Our school was very close to our house. One day, during the lunch break (we used to call it tiffin break), I came home with some of my classmates. On that day, my mom wasn't at home. She went to Faridpur to her parents' house.

Generally, when my mom isn't available, my father used to cook. He used to cook very basic Bangladeshi food, like rice, chicken/beef/mutton curry, and daal (maybe). No vegetables, because he didn't like them. His curry was great. We used to say it was better than our mom's. Mom never felt happy about that.

When we came to the house, my dad was cooking in the kitchen. He was wearing a white lungi. He felt a little awkward in front of our classmates. Later, he told me, "When your mom wasn't present at the house, why did you bring your friends home?"

Our classmates were very surprised. On those days, even now, Bangladeshi fathers don't cook. It was all mom's duty. My dad helped my mom cook in Saudi Arabia first. He used to say, "Now I've learned how to cook. When we go back to Bangladesh, I will help you cook. You will never feel alone." That didn't happen, actually. My father only cooked when no one else could. When my older sister grew up, she took responsibility for cooking if my mom wasn't around.

One of my classmates also said she felt my father was Hindu because he was wearing a white lungi.