My Story

When I first came here, I was so homesick. It was the kind of homesick that doesn’t go away with just a phone call or a video chat. It was in my bones. And what helped me most—what really held me together—was preparing Sri Lankan food. The spices, the smells, the way the turmeric would stain my fingers… it was like nurturing my body and my soul. Cooking helped me prepare to be a student. It grounded me.

​

There’s something powerful about feeling close to your parents through food. Even if you’re thousands of miles away, that first taste of curry or the smell of sautéed onions makes you feel like you’re back home, even for a moment.

​

Eating alone, though… that’s hard. It’s boring. And lonely. Some grad students come here and don’t have any experience in the US at all—it’s overwhelming. Food becomes this one familiar thing, one thing you can control, one thing that makes sense.

​

And honestly, if I go too long without eating spicy food, I don’t feel like I’m eating properly. It’s not even about taste—it’s like I’m not taking care of myself properly. It’s a kind of self-care that’s spiritual.

​

You know, the Buddha once asked ten questions from Rahula. The very first one? Everyone needs some good food. That’s where it starts. Food is foundational. It’s what makes us human. I try to be mindful of my eating habits, not just what I eat, but how I eat—how I honor my body, how I honor where I come from.

​

Food helps us be who we are—and embrace who we are.

​

And the smells! The spicy smells! They cling to your clothes, your hair, the walls. But to me, that’s beautiful. That’s presence. That’s power.

​

Honestly, I think food is the most spiritual thing in the world. My kitchen? It’s like a shrine room. That’s where I light the stove like a lamp, where I stir with intention. It’s a place of prayer, of remembering, of becoming.