Being Indian, I grew up in a home where relatives and family friends were always coming and going. Their arrival brought with it a wave of excitement. Delicious food was prepared in advance, menus were planned and special dishes were often made with particular guests in mind. None of it felt like a burden. It was simply what one did.
The idea was to eat together, at the same table, bringing with it happiness and in many ways, an occasion of its own. Extra bedding would appear, snacks would be laid out, outings would be planned and somehow the same house, the same space and even the same washroom never seemed inadequate. Hearts opened and with them, so did homes. Laughter echoed through the halls as stories from different generations were exchanged. Elders shared anecdotes from years gone by while the younger ones listened, laughed and contributed their own tales. The ladies often gathered in the kitchen, adding flavour not just to the food but to the atmosphere itself. One dish after another would find its place on the dining table, the spread growing larger as appetites did too.
The beauty of it all was that no one considered it a formality. It was an expression of affection, appreciation, and gratitude. Compliments filled the air just as much as the food filled our stomachs.
Today, things seem different. Having people over often feels more planned and structured. Invitations go out days in advance, schedules are coordinated and spontaneity has gradually faded. Gatherings are more likely to revolve around takeaway meals or a BYOB arrangement. There is absolutely nothing wrong with these newer traditions, yet I sometimes feel they lack a certain emotional warmth that once came naturally.
Traditions in my country have always centred around togetherness. The more, the merrier. If someone arrived at our door unexpectedly, regardless of the hour, the first question after offering them water was almost always, “Have you eaten?” What followed was a flurry of activity to ensure they were fed.
Today, the question is more likely to be, “Can I get you something?” Most often, that means a cup of tea or coffee and perhaps a few biscuits. While there is nothing wrong with that, it reflects a subtle shift in how hospitality is expressed.
For me, hospitality has never been about elaborate spreads or grand gestures. Nor is it about formality. How can offering someone a cup of coffee, sharing a meal or laying a table be considered formal? Hospitality is about making someone feel welcomed, valued and cared for.
A character is revealed by how you're welcomed and hosted.
I believe this is an art worth preserving and passing on. There is no need for extravagant meals or excessive effort, but there is value in going that extra step for those we invite into our homes. Sharing a meal, making someone comfortable and creating a sense of belonging are gestures that leave a lasting impression. Perhaps the newer generation would discover an even deeper sense of connection if these traditions were practised more often. After all, you are your own brand ambassador and how you make others feel says a great deal about who you are.
Maybe it stems from the traditions I grew up with. We were taught “Atithi Devo Bhava” the guest is akin to God. Perhaps it also comes from my Sikh faith and the principle of “Vand Chhako” share what you have and eat together. The tradition of langar embodies this beautifully, welcoming anyone who wishes to sit and share a meal, regardless of who they are.
All in all, I suppose I come from an era and a culture where going out of one's way for others was not exceptional, it was simply “normal”.
And perhaps that is why I feel so strongly about it.
I implore everyone to have at least one get-together every week. Not for the sake of formality, but for the sentiment behind it. Gather around a table, share a meal, exchange stories and remind ourselves that hospitality has never really been about food. It has always been about people.