Touching fresh, home-cooked food was forbidden until my mother had set aside the best portions for Mehmani. I would watch her as she joyfully assembled a meal fit for a King – complete with an appetizer, main course, side dish, and dessert. She would then garnish it with all the perfect trimmings and securely pack it so it was ready to take to Khane that evening.
Through this daily ritual of Mehmani, my mother infused her faith in what would otherwise be a daily chore; she was not just cooking for our family, but rather, she was preparing a meal for her Pir and Shah, her spiritual mother and father, her guide…
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