There’s a special kind of love that only a Naani can give. It’s not just in the hugs, the stories, or the little nuggets of wisdom she shares—it’s in the food. For many of us, Naani’s kitchen is the heart of our childhood memories, filled with the scent of freshly cooked meals, warm laughter, that special aam ka achaar and the kind of unconditional love that no recipe can quite capture. The love of food, passed down from one generation to another, is something Naani instills in her family with every dish she prepares.

My Naani was like that. Full of love, stories, anecdotes and lots of tasty food. I have spent a good part of my childhood with her, so I have been very lucky to have tasted a lot of her tasty food. She could whip up tasty food in minutes and loved watching us eat and enjoy her dishes. It always seemed to me that she could never get tired. Even if I mentioned of wanting to eat something in passing, she would always make sure I got that dish at the first possible mealtime.

Festivals were extra special because she made awesome sweets at home. Whether it was pua, or laung-latti, or halwa, it was always a feast. Along with these sweets, the meals used to be super awesome too. We were always in for a special treat in every festival, whether big or small.

Her kitchen was often a place where time slowed down. There was no hurried cooking for her; she carefully measured her ingredients, stirring lovingly and infused every dish with patience and wisdom. And when she saw us enjoying the food she would beam with joy.

She also loved to make new dishes. She used to find new recipes and make them for her family. She even made chow mein at home for us and of course she loved it too. She was not just a culinary expert but a gourmet too. My only regret is that I never asked her to write down her recipes for me. I miss her and the delicious meals she prepared for us all.