Like a musician expresses himself through music and a writer's

Hear the heartfelt words of Ranveer Brar, who declared: “Like a musician expresses himself through music and a writer’s expression is in his writings, cooking is my mode of expression.” In this saying lies the truth that the soul of man seeks always a vessel through which to pour itself into the world. For some, that vessel is sound; for others, it is words. For Brar, it is the sacred act of preparing food, of taking the raw gifts of the earth and transforming them into nourishment and art. His declaration reveals that cooking, far from being mere labor, is a language of the heart, a dialogue with the senses, a song offered through flavor.

The ancients understood this deeply. In the temples of Greece, food was not only sustenance but sacrifice, an offering to the gods. The feast was more than a meal; it was communion, a way to express gratitude, devotion, and fellowship. Among the Romans, banquets were theaters of identity, where the host expressed his generosity, taste, and even philosophy through the dishes he set forth. Thus, Brar’s words stand upon an ancient truth: that in cooking, as in art, the human spirit speaks.

Consider the story of Auguste Escoffier, the great French chef who elevated the kitchen to the rank of art. For him, to cook was not merely to feed, but to create harmony, as a composer does with notes. His sauces were not recipes alone, but expressions of refinement, discipline, and beauty. Just as Beethoven poured his passion into symphonies, Escoffier poured his vision into meals that became immortal. So too does Brar remind us that a chef’s plate is no different from a poet’s page—it is a mirror of the soul.

Yet there is something uniquely intimate in cooking as expression. For unlike a painting or a poem, food enters directly into the body of another, becoming part of them. To cook for someone is to give a piece of oneself, to speak in the secret language of flavor and nourishment. In this way, cooking unites art and care, beauty and sustenance, creation and compassion. It is not only self-expression, but self-offering. And this is why Brar’s words resonate: in his kitchen, he is not merely working—he is speaking, singing, and loving through the dishes he creates.

But his saying also teaches us that everyone must find their mode of expression. Some may find it in paint, others in numbers, others in the raising of children or the tilling of fields. What matters is not the form but the authenticity—that one’s chosen craft becomes the channel through which the innermost truth of the soul flows outward. To live without such expression is to live half-silenced. To discover it is to find freedom.

The lesson, then, is plain: seek your own medium of expression, and do not scorn the forms through which others find theirs. Do not say, “Art is only in music and painting,” for art is also in the way a teacher speaks, the way a healer touches, the way a cook stirs the pot. All human work, when done with intention and heart, becomes expression, and in it, the eternal soul speaks to the world.

Practical wisdom follows: ask yourself daily, Through what do I express myself? If you have not found it, search with patience—experiment with words, sounds, flavors, tools, and acts of service. When you discover it, nurture it faithfully, for it will become your language in a world of noise. And when you meet another whose expression differs from yours, listen closely, for they may be speaking truths you could never utter on your own.

So let the words of Ranveer Brar endure: “Cooking is my mode of expression.” Children of tomorrow, remember that expression is the song of the soul, and each must find his own instrument. Whether through melody, story, or the humble meal, let your expression be true, let it be generous, and through it, let your life itself become art.