I don’t know as we grow old and older, the longing to be with the parents become stronger. Ramdhan, especially is the time when I miss Ammi and Babbu the most. The colours of my childhood are incomparable to what the kids of today have with them. Our Suhurs (pre-dawn meal) were such significant moments in which we didn’t only consume our meals but brought up by Ammi with values too. PTV was the only channel in those days and I still remember those ‘Qavvalis’ by Sabri Brothers and many renowned qavvals of that time. We were supposed to cover our heads in respect and listen to each word carefully. We used to spread a ‘Dastarkhawn’ (a cloth on floor and people sit around it to eat their meals). The entire family gotten up and gathered in one room and in a solemn manner ate our food. Usually it was paratha with a gravy, curry or shami kabab. A pot full of homemade yogurt was relished by most of the adults to have a comfortable fast during the entire day. I remember those were the hot summer days when I had my first ‘Roza’ (fast) and I was treated like a princess. Acted nervously but important, gulped down each and every morsel and filled my stomach with a liter of water assuming I will never be thirsty again. The parhatas at Suhur, I never eat after Ammi and despite forcing myself to eat anything I never did after her. After Fajar namaz the entire house rested till the time the maid would enter commencing the routines of the day.  

I never saw Ammi sleep other than night. She indulged her spiritual yearnings by reciting the Holy Quran, sitting silently on an arm chair and reflected. She used to take charge of kitchen late in the afternoon to start her preparations for iftar meal. The aromas from frying in wok, the daal pakoras, the sweetest sherbet (despite the amount of sugar I add, never tastes the same). I don’t want that taste to be gone. I miss the frilly shalwar Kameez she used to design for me so I could be thankful to Allah more for HIS blessings. The platters of pakoras have increased with more fancy varieties, the number of joras have now become greater than before in my wardrobe with more expensive and branded ones but the beauty of those colours and traditional kurtas can never capture my attention as it lacks  warmth and affection in each of its thread.

With all those innovations and inventions in this present time, can someone provide me a time machine not for future but for my childhood? Ammi and Babbu I miss you. please come someday to make me feel the same. Maybe this Ramadan!!

R. Jeddy