The Taste I Never Needed: Growing Up Vegetarian

What are your feelings about eating meat?

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I’ve been a vegetarian for as long as I’ve been alive—not by decision, not by transition, but simply by origin. I grew up in a home where the kitchen was filled with the aroma of spices, fresh vegetables, homemade curries, and warm rotis puffing over the flame. Meat never had a place on our plates, and honestly, neither did curiosity about it.

Some people say, “You should try everything once.”
But I’ve never felt that tug—not even for a moment.

Being born vegetarian feels like living in harmony with a rhythm that’s always been part of me. I didn’t give up meat. I didn’t miss it. I simply never needed it. My world of food has always been colourful, diverse, comforting, and deeply satisfying—proof that taste doesn’t rely on what you avoid, but on how you celebrate what you choose.

People often ask, “Don’t you ever wonder how meat tastes?”
And I smile, because the truth is… no. I don’t.

Not out of fear, or judgment, or restraint—but because my plate has always felt complete. The crunch of fresh vegetables, the warmth of dal, the richness of paneer dishes, the fragrance of spices—this is the food that shaped my childhood, nourished my body, and anchored my values.

I’ve never tasted meat, and I’ve never wished to.
Not once.

For me, being vegetarian isn’t a lifestyle I adopted. It’s the foundation I was built on—something that feels natural, effortless, and deeply aligned with who I am.

My feelings about eating meat?
Simple: It’s not part of my story, and I’m perfectly complete without it.

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