AMMAMMA DIARIES 3: We Thought It Was a Feast

The four of us sat on the floor with our little bowls, happily drinking the hot porridge Ammamma had lovingly served us. It tasted heavenly with the salted lime pickle beside it, and we eagerly waited for a second helping.

But something felt strange. Near the half-closed kitchen door stood my parents, silently wiping their tears. Ammamma’s eyes were also moist. As children, we could not understand one thing. If the food was so delicious, why were they crying?

“How can we feed porridge to our children? They haven’t seen this kind of life”, was the sad tone of my ammamma and amma to my father who was crestfallen and visibly miserable. We were watching all this with curiosity, wondering what was going on. We thoroughly enjoyed the porridge and were perplexed that our parents and ammamma were unhappy about this. We had never tasted such delicious food before and were eager to eat more of this mouthwatering wonder. The combination of porridge and salted lime pickle was just out of the world.

This incident happened when my father had a severe business collapse. He lost everything and was in a very bad plight. My mother sold all her jewellery and yet we could not revive our business. During those vulnerable times when there was no money to even pay our school fees, feeding all us was a real challenge. Somehow, my father managed to pay our school fees. My father wouldn’t borrow money from anyone — not even his brothers. He was a very principled man with high self esteem. Being a self-made man, he never compromised on his ethics and strong values. One day, my ammamma found nothing at home — no groceries, no vegetables, no snacks to munch, not even a few slices of bread. It was then she bought broken rice to make simple porridge.

What amused all of us was that, while the food was appetizing and every morsel simply delicious, our parents and ammamma were in sorrow. In fact, we truly savoured the food. All through these difficult times, Ammamma would simply say it was Krishna’s Prasad. She would narrate the story of Sudama and Krishna on how even the simplest offering with love becomes Divine. She probably felt that the story would comfort us that the Lord himself enjoyed such an ordinary meal. But we needed no convincing. We were thrilled at this new recipe. Our heart and palate longed for more of this awesome porridge. We were never tired of eating this wonderful prasad.

Our ammamma was such a brilliant cook, it was difficult to fathom her culinary skills. She would make the humble porridge so yummy. She would serve with so much of love and grace that we didn’t feel we were suffering at all. That’s the beauty of her loving care. She could handle every problem with alacrity and grace. An ardent lover of Krishna, her life circled around His teachings. She felt that it was probably the Lord testing her faith. She never questioned Him but took everything as a Divine gift. Her faith, patience and endurance could never be challenged.

Today, when I think of this incident, I am really intrigued as to how we managed to pass through a tough time like this. Truly Krishna and Ammamma ‘s faith had carried us through this.

Later my father got a job and everything fell in place. We couldn’t get back to our usual lifestyle but we definitely were self-sufficient. Just about able to meet our ends.

And through it all, one truth remains: We owe so much to our ammamma. Her selfless sacrifices, her inner strength, her values — they shaped us in ways we truly understand only now. She was more than a grandmother; she was our anchor, our guide, our quiet force of unparalleled wisdom.

How we wish she had lived longer. For every moment spent with her was a lesson, and every memory of her is a blessing, a treasure that no wealth can buy.

Originally published at https://www.linkedin.com.