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My best friend is named Aadya, and she moved to New York to get her master's degree in women's literature. She was engaged, to a man she loved so much that she was convinced she would never love again. But he chose instead to honor a proposal arranged by his parents, so she felt she had no choice but to leave, and to watch him get married and have children with someone else from a distance.
We bonded through our lonely hearts over tea, books, and cooking. She taught me that turmeric was a spice mild enough to throw in any dish, but magical enough to battle any illness. I started to cook with it all of the time, but what I discovered about turmeric was that it stained everything yellow; my dishes, my utensils, my dish brush. Even the backsplash behind my stove was not immune to its touch, no matter how strong the bleach I scrubbed with. It also stained my hands when I cooked, and my teeth and tongue when I ate.
Once I started cooking with turmeric, it was everywhere. It never left me. And when Aadya went home in the summers and left me in my apartment by myself, I had the turmeric stains to remind me of her; to hold me like she would if I was having a poor day.
When I met you, I immediately recognized the smell of turmeric, and since then, my being has been stained bright yellow with you. No matter how I try to remove it.
