Grocery Shopping & More

I have always nurtured a deep love for grocery-shopping. When I was young, my mum would usually take us to either the Spencer’s or Big Bazaar in Aurangabad, both of which unfortunately don’t exist where they used to anymore so I have to do some mental gymnastics to locate these spaces in order to be able to retrieve my memories. We’d usually go on a decided weekday, and my brother and I would have an allowance to get one small snack on these expeditions. Around the time, Cadbury had launched its Bytes, which revolutionized the idea of chocolate wafers for us. Bytes too, like the departmental stores, doesn’t exist anymore but I will always remember it because it used to be the one ‘cool’ snack I could take to school occasionally as part of an otherwise very healthy roti-sabzi lunch box. I used to throw tantrums back in the day but I’d willingly sell some part of my soul for mom to make me roti-sabzi bentos.

I shouldn’t be complaining, though, because my Japanese granny does indulge me with onigiri bentos occasionally and sometimes, in fact, I even ask her to pack one for me. Just today, I received a delightful package of takenoko gohan or bamboo shoot rice! I used to be hesitant asking her to cook for me earlier, as norm has it, because I’d always be worried about inconveniencing her, but in all my time on this planet, if there is one thing I have learned about love carefully cultivated over time, it is this: you don’t need to worry too much! I’m a compulsive worrier, very rarely able to tell people what I want (a friend jokingly told me I should get a t-shirt with “I’m sorry” on it because of how many times I begin request sentences with “I’m sorry”) but trying to understand how loving friendships work has made me realize that it’s alright. If my granny can’t make the onigiri for me, she’ll just tell me. I don’t need to do complex calculations in my head about how that might make her feel bad, or may make things awkward between us. It’s not — it never will, because that’s just how friendships work. Somedays you can show up, other days you can’t, but it doesn’t make you less of a friend. All that matters is intentionality. How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved (Okay, okay, I occasionally do quote Freud). I genuinely like this one, though — to me, it emphasizes unconditionality and loving people for who they are, even while being aware of how we all constantly change.

Anyhow, I digressed. I was trying to write about my love for grocery-shopping. Mum always allowed us just one tiny snack (or in some rare instances, two) every week on an allotted day, and while it could be frustrating because every little kid will inevitably want unlimited candy, it helped us become more conscientious. Now, as I try to work on my diet or incorporate exercise into my schedule, I realize how I already have a framework which I can use. I still constantly struggle because I’m not great with self-control, but I’m noticing how that has slowly been changing, and there’s good and bad days like there always will be, but it feels nice to know I’ve at least made a start.

Grocery-shopping as an independent adult feels very strange. I’m supposed to decide what I want? Excuse me, mom? I think there’s still part of me that expects my mother to give my brother and me clear instructions: “Beta, go get 5 potatoes and 5 onions”. But now I’m supposed to somehow calculate how many potatoes and onions I need, and this isn’t even a drill? I decided to embrace the ordeal and some point in my life, giving myself the liberty to waltz through the chocolate aisles and spend several minutes deciding exactly what percent of cocoa I want. Believe it or not, I owe most of my Japanese language ability to meticulously browsing department store shelves, reading each ingredient carefully even if I was immediately intimidated by the kanji. I’ve always had food restrictions of some kind or the other, and in retrospection, I’m grateful because it gave me the opportunity to be conscious of both food and language. When there’s something that you or your loved ones can’t eat, it generally makes you more mindful of food. When my mum visited and we took a mother-daughter vacation together, I remember being so frustrated on some occasions because it got really hard to find vegetarian food (my mum doesn’t eat eggs either). But it also really made me think of food, and how this was an opportunity to learn to love my mum better by respecting her food choices. Over the years, I’ve learned so much about being vegetarian (even vegan) in Japan and while it isn’t easy, it definitely isn’t impossible. At the end of the day, it really comes down to the effort that I’m willing to put in and I truly believe that no one deserves to be made to feel bad about what they do and don’t eat.

Japan is grocery-shopping heaven for me because of how well stories are usually designed (admittedly, though, there is still a labyrinthine quality to them), and while I know the loud colour pop and discount labels don’t do the trick design-wise for everyone, I love it. I love how sometimes there’s in-store bakeries and as soon as you step in, the fragrance of fresh bread greets you. I love how there’s always ten kinds of yoghurt. I love the icecream shelves, always obsessing over seasonal flavours because you gotta try them all (I’ve been here five years and mostly, its the same flavours each year, but they still seem novel to me each time — I'm an easily excited bee).