February. The month of love and therapy and Appa's declining health.
Appa needs a hip replacement. He's seventy-three, diabetic (Type 2, diagnosed in 2019, managed with medication and my nutritional vigilance), and his left hip has been deteriorating for two years. The orthopedist says surgery is necessary — the joint is bone-on-bone, every step is pain.
Appa received this news the way he receives all medical news: silently, with the specific dignity of a man who considers physical vulnerability a personal offense.
"When?" he asked the doctor.
"We can schedule for April."
"Will I miss cricket season?"
"You'll be recovered by summer."
"Schedule it."
Cricket. The man's surgical timeline is determined by cricket season. Some things are sacred.
With Amma's condition progressing and Appa facing surgery, the caregiving equation is shifting. Appa has been Amma's anchor — the person who makes sure she takes the donepezil, who drives her to appointments, who compensates for the lapses with quiet, constant presence. If Appa is recovering from hip surgery, who anchors Amma?
Me. Arvind. The children of immigrants who are becoming the parents of their parents.
I made Amma's rasam for Appa — the peppery version, which she makes for him when he's stressed. I brought it to their house and found Appa in his chair, reading, his leg propped on a cushion.
"Priya brought rasam," Amma announced, as if this were unusual. I bring rasam every week. But Amma doesn't always remember this, and each delivery is received as new.
Each delivery received as new. This is the disease — making the familiar unfamiliar, turning routine into novelty, erasing the patterns that families build.
I sat with my parents. Appa drank rasam. Amma watched television. The house was quiet with the specific quiet of a home where two people are aging and one of them is forgetting.
The therapy with Dr. Mehta continues. Session four this week. We talked about the "good daughter" role — the impossibility of being perfect, the exhaustion of never needing help. "You don't have to be the pharmacist and the cook and the writer and the daughter AND the person who holds it all together," she said.
"Who else will hold it?"
"Nobody. That's the point. Nobody holds everything. You share it."
Share it. The hardest lesson for a Krishnamurthy woman who was taught that needing help is weakness.
I'm learning. Slowly. Like fermentation. Like everything worth making.
Amma’s rasam starts with lentils — always toor dal, cooked soft enough that the water turns cloudy and golden, carrying the starch and the warmth before a single peppercorn is added. Every time I make it for Appa, I am reminded that the foundation matters: get the lentil-to-water ratio wrong and the rasam turns either too thick to be soothing or too thin to be nourishing. Dr. Mehta would probably say there’s a metaphor there about holding things in the right proportion, and she would not be wrong. This is where I begin — with lentils, with water, with ratio — before the pepper, before the tamarind, before everything else that makes it his.
Lentil To Water Ratio
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 cup toor dal (split pigeon peas) or red lentils, rinsed thoroughly
- 3 cups water (stovetop method) or 2 cups water (pressure cooker method)
- 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
- 1 teaspoon ghee or neutral oil (optional, for finishing)
- 1 small tomato, roughly chopped (optional, for body)
- 1/4 teaspoon asafoetida / hing (optional, aids digestion)
Instructions
- Rinse and soak. Measure 1 cup of lentils into a bowl. Rinse under cold water 3—4 times until the water runs mostly clear. For stovetop cooking, soak 15—20 minutes to reduce cook time; skip soaking if using a pressure cooker.
- Combine with water. Add the rinsed lentils to a medium saucepan. Pour in 3 cups of water for stovetop (or 2 cups if using a pressure cooker or Instant Pot). Add turmeric and salt. Stir once.
- Cook stovetop. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, skimming any foam that rises. Reduce heat to low, partially cover, and simmer 20—25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lentils are completely soft and beginning to dissolve into the water. Add the chopped tomato in the last 10 minutes if using.
- Check consistency. The cooked lentils should be pourable but not watery — the consistency of a thin porridge. For a thinner dal (ideal as rasam base), add 1/4 cup additional hot water and stir. For thicker dal, continue simmering uncovered for 5 more minutes.
- Finish and serve. Stir in ghee or oil and asafoetida if using. Taste and adjust salt. Serve hot as a standalone dal with rice, or use as the lentil water base for pepper rasam by straining the solids and reserving the liquid.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 170 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 300mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 293 of Priya’s 30-year story
· Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.