A love letter to Mustard Oil

Valentine's week has a way of making love look polished. Roses wrapped in cellophane. Chocolates are lined up in neat boxes. Emotions softened, rounded off, and made easier to digest.

But love — the kind we recognise instinctively — is rarely subtle.

Which is why, this Valentine's week, mustard oil comes to mind.

Mustard oil is unmistakably Indian. It comes from our soil, our seasons, our way of cooking and living. Like us, it doesn’t believe in quiet introductions. It announces itself the moment it hits a hot pan — sharp, bold, unapologetic. There’s no easing into it, no halfway commitment. You either embrace it, or you don’t. And that feels deeply familiar.

Much like Indians ourselves, mustard oil doesn’t dilute itself to be universally liked. It carries strong opinions, a loud presence, and a certain warmth that stays long after the first encounter. It doesn’t strive for subtlety — it believes in impact. In being felt. In leaving a mark.

Across Indian kitchens, mustard oil is not just an ingredient; it’s memory. It lives in winter afternoons and slow-cooked meals. In mothers warming oil for massages. In pickles that aged patiently on terraces. In the smell that lingered on hands, clothes, and entire homes. Even before we understood flavour, we understood that smell. It told us we were home.

It has quietly shaped our palate and our sense of comfort. It has been present in everyday cooking, not saved for celebration, yet making ordinary meals deeply satisfying. That kind of presence is rare. And deeply loving.

In a world constantly chasing refinement and reinvention, mustard oil remains rooted. Local. Honest. It doesn’t try to blend in or keep up with trends. It holds on to its identity with pride — much like Indian kitchens that continue to cook the way they always have, passing flavour down through instinct rather than instruction.

This Valentine's week, when love is dressed in pink and sold in boxes, I choose to celebrate the love that feels like home. The love that nourishes. The love that stays. The love that is strong, familiar, and deeply engraved in our collective kitchen memory.