Funeral Food

My mother's father passed away on April 6. He was an incredibly dear and beloved person in our family. Perenially hip, I think he had a pair of jeans before my dad. He used to call me R2D2 and once said, underwhelmingly, after seeing "Eyes Wide Shut," "I liked the other Kubricks better."

He and his father were both way ahead of their time, pursuing industry in India at a time when statist, illiberal ideas held in the governance of the economy.

Nana loved eating, and had a very distinguishing palate. He used to make his own throat-soothing tea, which had at least 12 different ingredients. He loved meat but married my grandmother, and meat's never passed her lips; so he would buy and clean it himself, at a time when most men did not participate in cooking. He knew a lot about ayurvedic considerations around diet: if I ate too much mango, would warn me against its ability to cause acne if eaten in excess; if I ate too much honey, he would say to be careful as it raises the body temperature.

He was the gentlest, lovingest person; and we will all miss him hugely.

Nana got his start in industry selling mung dal (lentils); when he was cremated, his ashes were placed atop a sack of mung dal during the interim period before they were scattered in both the Cauvery River and the Ganges.

Whenever there is a major life event - marriage or funeral, for example - Sindhis make Sindhi curry for guests coming for some of the rites. It is a delicious, strained tuvar dal and tamarind-based curry wth green seeded vegetables like bhindi (okra) and singhi (drumstick) or green beans. Traditionally, it's poured over hot rice and deep fried, tiny balls of chickpea flour soaked in sugar syrup (boondhi).

For 12 days after Nana's funeral, we fed sacred cows his favorite foods.