Paratha Again!

Before You Read

This is a story about Sana, who grumbled about almost everything, until one surprising Sunday.

As you read, look for the little things Ammi does every day.

Every morning, Ammi made soft, round parathas.

And every morning, Sana grumbled. “Paratha again? Mahnoor gets jam sandwiches!”

Later, Ammi ironed Sana’s school uniform.

“My shoes are so old,” Sana grumbled. “Mahnoor has shiny new ones.” Ammi just smiled.

At dinner, Sana pushed her plate away. “Daal again!”

Ammi rubbed her forehead. She looked very tired.

On Sunday morning, Ammi stayed in bed with a fever.

“Ammi must rest today,” said Abbu, tucking the quilt around her. “We will manage!”

Abbu tried to make parathas. Smoke curled up from the pan.

The parathas came out lumpy and funny-shaped, with burnt spots all over.

Sana took a bite. It was hard and bitter.

She thought of Ammi’s soft, warm parathas, and she missed them.

Then Abbu tried to plait Sana’s hair.

It came out in funny, sticking-out bunches, like a bird’s nest! They both laughed, and Abbu kept combing, but Sana missed Ammi’s gentle hands.

All day, Sana and Abbu washed dishes, swept the courtyard and hung up the washing.

By evening, Sana’s arms ached. “Ammi does this every day,” she whispered, “and I never say thank you.”

Sana carried a glass of water to Ammi’s bed.

“Thank you, my darling,” Ammi said softly. Those words made Sana feel warm inside.

Then Sana drew a card for Ammi: a round paratha, a smiling sun and a red heart.

“Thank you for every paratha,” she said, “and my uniform, and my plaits, and everything.”

Next morning, Ammi felt better, and soft, round parathas sizzled again.

Sana hugged her tight. “Thank you, Ammi! And thank you, Abbu, for trying!” Abbu laughed.

That night, Sana raised her hands and whispered, “Alhamdulillah.”

She thanked Allah for Ammi getting better, for warm parathas, and even for Abbu’s wobbly plait.