Amma's Dhal~

Amma. Lachmi. They all say I look like her and I'm proud of it. Some poeple would say it to me thinking I'd get offended because she was olive-skinned, old in the photo, couldn't speak English at all and simple. But they didn't know that was exactly what I loved about her. Because beyond that supposed simple old woman, was a big-hearted, petite, slim and strong lady who committed her life to her children, striving to make both ends meet, if only to have food on the table or should I say floor, everyday.

She could turn a simple, yellow, lentil bean called dhal into a dish generations of Menghrajanis will love. I myself can never resist dhal wherever and whenever it's served. Its sourness and saltiness trying to beat the other. As the late Doreen Fernandez would say of sinigang, "it had a nuanced sourness." And boy was it lovely!

My sister and I grew up looking forward to Saturdays at Amma's where Basmati rice was cooked and eaten with dhal, dudu and crushed papad. She would call my Dad everyday asking if he was awake and had he eaten, if he was on his way to the office, what would he want for lunch? And each of us would take turns answering her in what little Sindhi we knew, "Na Amma, Daddy sumipay (No Amma, Daddy is still sleeping) or "Daddy, Bathroom." She would call over and over till she got Daddy on the line.

She was my father's anchor and his heroine. My paternal grandfather died when Daddy was only 4 years old. And Amma had to single-handedly raise 7 children after that. What was amazing was she was able to do it. And that kind of love and care would find its way to us, her grandchildren. The moment our parents brought us home after being born, Amma was already there waiting to massage our newborn bodies with oils that smelled like coconut, herbs and spices. She would also gently put surmo in our eyes, that black inked liquid eyeliner that needed a silver instrument to create ancient, exotic-looking, dark eyes. How we loved the coolness of the silver as it rolled around our lids quickly. I hated the first part because my eyelashes were too long and putting the instrument in was torturous for me. But after some tears and lotsa anxiety, the ordeal would be over and I would look like a native Indian girl. Not that I needed all that eye make-up to look authentic, but it did make my strong features even stronger.

But that was then...soon Amma's dhal would become but a memory until Daddy would bring us back to those warm Saturday lunches with his own version of this simple meal generations of us have come to love. I miss you my Amma. You had the best hug ever. I'm glad i still get it today coz it's just like Daddy's hug.