PEOPLE WILL never forget HOW YOU MADE THEM feel.
- Maya Angelou
If you know me, you know that I hold a firm belief that hosting should be considered an official love language. While one could argue that it falls under “acts of service,” or “quality time”, I believe it’s actually a combination of all love languages - words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, receiving gifts and physical touch. Thus, it requires its own category. When you’re hosting, you are pouring into your guests… exchanging loving words of encouragement with your village, making meaningful memories, giving the gift of thoughtful details and favors and ending the night with a warm embrace. If you ask me, hosting is the superior love language.
Since discovering my passion for cooking and experimenting in the kitchen, my love for entertaining has only strengthened over time. Now I don’t just anticipate the reactions from my guests surrounding the decor and details, but also anxiously anticipate their first bite of every dish I craft, ready to take mental notes to apply towards our next gathering.
Ever since I can remember, I have deemed hosting as an art form. I think one reason is because of its cultural significance. In Bangla, there is a special term for gatherings, called a “dawat.” An opportunity for kin and loved ones to gather together and break bread, to enjoy cultural music, attire and entertainment. To center community and foster relationships, new and old. So growing up, we were always hosting or attending dawats on rotation. My parents loved to host, to feed and to serve. I remember dawats with my Ammu juggling multiple dishes on the stove, and my Abbu being the ultimate host, dancing, laughing and being the life of every party.
My aunt, whom I lovingly called Meju Khallama, lived with us for a good while when I was a young preteen. And during the time that she lived with us, I remember our dawats were exceptionally special and extravagant. Not because of any expensive touches, but because of the intentional and thoughtful details Meju Khallama would lovingly add to every event. Meju Khallama was a natural creative and a thought leader in countless ways. More on that for another time. But when it came to hosting, this was actually her superpower.
I remember she would cut raw tomatoes to be shaped like flowers. She’d carve doves out of boiled potatoes and hard boiled eggs. She would artfully fold napkins into sculptural accents beside each plate. Turning every small thing into something breathtaking.
And I…would just watch in amazement. Everything she touched truly would turn to gold. And this was her way of expressing her love. The time and thought spent to turn something great into something memorable. And it’s through Meju Khallama that I learned that delicious food is only one facet of hosting – that presentation and ambience are what transforms a meal into an experience.
My Meju Khallama passed away from breast cancer shortly after our time living together in the States. She was known for her love of education, but I think the legacy she left behind with me was her love for hosting and entertaining. How everything she touched had a thoughtful touch. She wrote letters, kept a diary diligently, and treated every day like a special occasion. She wore saris daily. She was an eternal optimist. As I reflect more about her impact on my life, I realize she embodied pockets of peace. She was the pioneer of romanticizing life, and treating every day like a special occasion.
Maya Angelou once said that “people will never forget how you made them feel.” And I think that every time we choose to open our doors to serve the people we love, we allow them to feel our love through action, intention and service. As I set up for any event that I host, I think about my Meju Khallama. And I realize that she lives on in the details. And I know, that’s how I’d like to be remembered too.
