“What breakfast shall I make tomorrow?” I asked Srijanani as she sat zipping her bag.

In the days before her marriage, I rarely asked such questions. But now, with her visits being so rare, I try to pour all my love into those few meals I cook her.

“Pesarratu with upma,” she said without hesitation. “And allam pachadi too. Don’t rush into the kitchen early tomorrow, Amma. I will join to help", she said. 

“I knew you would ask for that. And, I already soaked the green moong dal and made the allam pachadi,” I replied, a little proud of being a mother.

Her smile widened. “Ahh, thank you, Amma. I miss having this at home.”

“Why? Why not at your home?” I asked, surprised. “You love them, and your husband too.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “We both love eating them… but after long days at work, neither of us has the time or energy to make them”

“You know, Srijanani, love for food sometimes needs a little help to find its way back into busy lives”, I replied as she looked confused. 

The next morning, after our breakfast, I handed her a jar of pesarratu ready mix and a bottle of allam pachadi.

She paused, glancing at it and hugged, saying, “You are the best, Amma”.

I hugged her back, content, knowing that whenever she opened the jar, she would feel the warmth of the home she grew up in.