24th December, 2018

“Food, like a loving touch or a glimpse of divine power, has that ability to comfort.”-Norman Kolpas
The true meaning of eating is to feed your soul and satisfy your emotions, rather than just filling your stomach. It’s very essential to build a connect with the food you eat, and one such dish in my life, with which I connect a lot is Mithe Seviyan.
Mithe Seviyan, translated as “sweet vermicille” is laced with memories. It’s brown colour, speckled with small bits of khoya and briefly toasted cashews are a pure delight to my eyes. It’s taste still lingers in my tastebuds.
I share a very deep and emotional relation with this dessert. It’s solely because of the tons of love my naana ( grandpa) poured into Mithe Seviyan, while making it.
Every Ramadan(a month when Muslims fast for 30 days) naana would make this rich sweet, irrespective of his health and old age. Naana and naani ma( grandma) would sit together and prepare a list of ingredients to be bought. They do so only a day before, in order to ensure the ingredients are as fresh as they could be. They would roughly calculate the ratios of vermicille, khoya, and sugar, as they did not have a well written recipe. They preferred going with their intuition. After all it’s their creation.
The next day, naana would himself sit and fry the fresh vermicille in some hot oil, until it turned deep brown. In a huge pot, he would pour a good amount of pure cows ghee-from our local market, and toss in vermicille and khoya. Meanwhile, naanima would prepare Sheera(sugar syrup), to be added into the pot.
The hard part of the process kicks in now. Stirring a pot full of solild-semi solid ingredients is no where close to easy. Yet naana would himself do this, ignoring his arms cries. But, as years passed, he handed over this job to mamma. However, he’d stand there to check if the flavours are right, and the pot’s off the flame. He completed his part of making Mithe Seviyan, when we broke our fast. Right after a glass full of water and a bite of dates, I’d straight away grab a bowl of the sweet. As soon as I take in the first bite, with a gentle smile he’d ask me,“Kaisa hai bete?”(How’s it my child). And the beam would only get bigger when I replied,“Accha hai naana!”(It’s good grandpa).
Today, no Swiggy or Zomato can deliver this dessert to me. That’s because the precious hands of the person who make it are no more. Surely no person can imitate the love he put into it. My hearts gets heavy to realize that my upcoming Ramadhans will be devoid of my naana and his very old Mithe Seviyan.
How I wish I could have my naana around, and relive the moments of eating his Mithe Seviyan. How I wish……
-Shaziya Begum





