The Richest Woman I Know
A tribute to generosity, love, and selflessness
Your abundance is not measured by what you have,
it is created by what you share.
— Heidi Catherine Culbertson, Wisdom and Recipes
Her stubby fingers moved nimbly, piercing the fabric and pulling the thread through the cotton fibers. I watched her every move like a hawk. I was a hopeless case at needlework, but she was teaching me how to make rosettes with French knots like it was the most important thing the world needed on a sweltering July afternoon. And though I despised needlepoint, in that moment she made me love it.
Most people call her, Mumani. Not all her secret powers are yet known.
In the world of Urdu speakers who call every relation with a specific word, Mumani is your mother’s brother’s wife. But in her case, it has somehow become a term of endearment for most people who know her. She is actually my mother’s Mumani but from a young age, my siblings and I call her what seemed most fitting to us: Ammi Jan, Beloved Mother. Yes, that was the epithet that felt just right.
Ammi Jan has small eyes and a bulbous nose. She always wears her hair in a bun that neatly rests on her freckled neck. She has none of the conventional features of beauty and yet she has the most beautiful face when she smiles, her perfectly even, pearly teeth radiating a warmth that melts your heart.
Since I was a kid, our house filled up with her non-stop conversation when she visited. She has the amazing talent of connecting with just about anyone. Little children, lovestruck newlyweds, puppy-eyed teenagers, expectant mothers, street vendors: she could rope in anyone into her web of chatter.
That is what she does. She collects life stories. She listens and lets you bare your soul. Unbeknownst to you, she allows you to pour out your heart. She makes those who are rendered invisible, visible. In this age of distraction, when people are mostly half-listening to you half checking their phone, this quality is a rarity. Everyone always seems to be running out of time. But there she is, offering to share hers like every minute of her life was an hour.
That is why whenever we face a problem, big or small, we seek her out. And she always responds by saying, “Once I met so-and-so and they also had the same issue and…” she narrates a story or two that enraptures you. She tells you the most compelling reasons with multiple references drawn from various sources about why your hair is getting brittle or why the baby wouldn't stop crying or what the menu for the wedding feast should be. It seems like for a myriad of problems she has multiple solutions, each endorsed with a success story of its own, all relayed to you in the style of a master storyteller.
And it isn’t just that she is simply handing out free advice. We have enough of that going around already. No, if you ask her for her famous rice pudding recipe, you get the recipe along with a treasured bottle of rose water, a fistful of aromatic cardamoms to top the pudding with, and an offer to sit by you in the kitchen while you cook.
Once when I was 21, I was unburdening my woes to her about how I had nothing to wear to a wedding dance party. My damsel-in-distress story was not only heard but soon Ammi Jan was sketching elaborate designs of the most frolicking skirts and skimpy blouses. She got her trusty Singer sewing machine out the next day and beckoned my mother to get her finest banarsi silks. The week after, I stood in her room in the most stunning dress I had ever worn. Since then, I have given away other expensive, designer dresses but not the one Ammi Jan sewed. That is carefully kept with the same care that she showed me that day. It is there to remind me to deeply listen to others.
Over the years, she has spent countless hours cooking the most exquisite dishes for us. Goodies that others would normally buy off the store shelves are freshly kneaded, baked, and stored in our kitchen all because of her. I’ve known many who cook just as well as her. But somehow her food always tastes a tad better. And I suspect it is her extra special ingredient that wins our palates: her boundless love.
I now live thousands of miles away from home. Far from her. But I try to weave her into my starkly different life in the U.S. I can certainly search for a 5-star chutney recipe with 5 trillion reviews on the internet to go with my mutton rice. But I don’t. I call her up. She is the Google Jan who isn’t a cold-hard algorithm. I get to hear her bellowing “Hallo” when she picks up. She must speak loud enough because I live so far away now, of course. She first asks me about every possible family member I could be in touch with. Did my sister-in-law deliver her second child safely? Has my friend from college who had severe allergies outgrown them yet? Do I make sure I drink milk every night to strengthen my bones? After all, I’ve had 3 kids! Yes, no and most nights Ammi Jan, I tell her. I have by now forgotten about my chutney problem. We talk for an hour and I hang up. And then I call her again. How else would that chutney ever get made?
Ammi Jan’s encyclopedic knowledge extends far beyond the realm of obscure recipes. She is our walking talking canon of family history too. She doesn’t remember significant dates like most of us do. There is always a web of correlated dates that leaves you baffled: Guddu Uncle got married to Sofia Aunty the same year Rano had her third child and a few months before General Zia’s plane crashed. I still don’t know Guddu Uncle’s wedding anniversary date, but I sure know that I am loved. That I will be remembered. That Ammi Jan might be telling my story right now to a doe-eyed teenager sitting by her side like I did many, many times when I was younger.
I can’t remember many material gifts that she has given to us over the years. But what she has given us is irreplaceable. Ammi Jan, through her generosity of time, smiling countenance, the 24-hour helpline access, has enriched our lives more than any presents could. Her creative powers in cooking, sewing, gardening extend far beyond her being. She has harnessed these talents to nurture her relationships. I don’t have an iota of her talents, but I am glad to say her lessons have stayed with me. How couldn’t they? When you’ve been loved selflessly by even one person in your life, that love is bound to shine brilliantly from within you to brighten other lives.
So, if you have anyone like that in your life, call them up to ask about that recipe you don’t really need. I need to make a call of my own right now. Ciao.
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Thanks to the exceptional Ravyne Hawke of the equally wonderful publication Promptly Written for the quote that sparked this essay. You gave me the invaluable opportunity to thank someone I love much.
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I would like to give a shoutout to my friend Zaha Hyatt who introduced me to the wonderful world of Medium not too long ago and for her continued support since I joined. Do read her wonderful piece below:
How to Help Your Fatherless Friend on Father’s Day. | Moms Don’t Have Time to Write (medium.com)
