To be remembered...

Yesterday was rather special. I woke up to the news that an old family friend was about to visit us. My mother and brother were home too. I had not seen Uncle for perhaps twenty five years. He had stopped by to visit the family a few times but I had always missed his visits. He was a very close friend of my father and therefore it was his way of showing respect – this occasional visit. I gave him directions on the phone and went for my morning walk as usual.  I got back early and made sambar and idlis in time for their arrival. Uncle loved dosas and so I planned to make my paper thin dosas only after they showed up. Uncle’s favourite breakfast was dosa and chutney podi teamed with a steaming hot cup of black coffee.

Uncle and his son and daughter-in-law soon showed up and we talked of this and that. He looked different of course. We all did. Twenty five years is a lot of time and I sat wondering at how quickly the years seemed to have passed when I look back but how interminable some of the more painful phases seemed while I was living through them. The simple breakfast followed and I caught up with Uncle’s son whose memories of my father were as clear as daylight. 

He told me how they (his father, mother, sister and himself) loved to visit our flat in Kuwait in the weekends. It was not just my father’s famous hospitality, it was the love with which he prepared and served his friends, it was the joy with which he received them, it was the stories he wove around each dish and the way he could always entertain the children that stayed in everyone’s minds. To them, he still deserved to be a cherished memory because they associated him with some of the happier moments in their lives.

I was incredibly touched to hear others remembering my father the way I did. He was an unusual man whose love was genuine and touched everyone who came near him. I think my son inherited the largeness of his heart and some little gene of his is embedded in me, for I love to feed people too although perhaps not on the scale that my father used to. All my friends know they can walk in for a meal anytime and they also know how much I enjoy remembering each one’s favourite dishes and attempting to make them whenever they drop by.

As we laughed and caught up and reminisced, it was time for Uncle to leave to catch his flight. He bid us all farewell but before that he told me a few words that moved me immensely – “You have turned out so well! I am very proud of you. After years, I have tasted food that reminds me of the times I spent with your father. Thank you for taking me back in time to those very memories.” I hugged him tight because I couldn’t speak. We waved him goodbye and I walked back home feeling as though my father was watching over me with a smile …