Amma was the face I searched for in a sea of adult faces at my annual school concert, christmas carols, prize giving and sports meet. Seated in the midst of a hundred others but hardly part of a chattering group of mums. A sweet but dignified presence.

Amma was my plate of rice served and kept covered, which I hungrily looked forward to after school,  the mug of warm milk last thing at night. 

Amma is my memory of endless hours of story telling with each mouthful of rice she fed me and my younger sister. Bob and Sally and the fairy party, Jack and the beanstalk, Blue Beard, Three little pigs, Goldilocks,Ciderella and many more  with which she fed our childhood fantasy. 

Amma to me were those late nights when we gathered around the kitchen table chopping up ingredients for Cristmas cake, the bottles of Thambili wine being  strained on white filter paper and Ham cured in the fridge. Amma was the fragrance of Christmas cake being baked, of polished floors, New curtains and Pinus of the Christmas Tree. 

Amma to me was to  wake up on Christmas morn to the deep voice of Jim Jeeves as he sang  'We thank thee'  and sounds of a busy kitchen.

She  was the letters to Santa, Santa's elves and Santa Claus. The bonus gift apart from the long list I asked for simply because I had been 'extra good' that year.

Amma was the trolley laden with Christmas cake, butter cake, milk toffee, mung etta toffee and kokis.

Amma was always and always Chocolate cake... 

Amma was a suitcase full of night dresses and house coats, bed sheets and lace edged pillow cases in every shade of pastel and white, prepared before the marriage of each of her six daughters, and suitcases full of baby shirts, towels and baby napkins prepared for the birth of each of her grand children.

Amma was the delicate lace edged white handkerchief on my wedding day.

Amma was that warm sweet dark coffee in the early hours of morning when I lay exhausted in the Labour room after delivering my son.

Amma was also the quiet presence by my side in the months that followed , visits to the Doctor or a warm massage when my toes cramped from a chill.  

Amma is sweetness, amma is flowers of every pale hue, she is the fragrance of the sweetest talcum powder.... of lavender and English Rose.

Amma is the patterns in the clouds, the early evening star and the beautiful sunsets of my childhood.

 Amma was everything gentle, quiet and mainly every thing that was consistent.

 Amma was the unfailing birthday card and telephone call on my birthday and Amma was the anniversary card every year on the day...never mind and come what may...

Amma most of all was that sweet voice that taught me to keep quiet if I had nothing nice to say. 

Thank you sweet angel you are resting now with Jesus after a long and fruitful life. I hope you were happy with us your loved ones, I hope you were not sad...all I can say is thank you for the wonderful gift of your life and hope something of your beautiful self would remain in me...