Home: A Panjiri Story by Maryam Akram

I reached out to Maryam of (@kashmirichaiandbooks) because there is something intimate about the way she tells stories. They feel lived in. Her perspective comes from love and intention, and even though we didn't know each other well, there was something about her work that made me feel like I could trust her with this.

I didn't want her to make something beautiful about Panjiri. I wanted to know if she could find something in it that taste and appearance couldn't tell you. I wanted her to try it, sit with it, and see if it connected to something in her own life.

It did.

Maryam knew Panjiri from a very particular time in hers. It was something she remembered from postpartum, when people around her were taking care of her. Years later, it came back into her life through Babo, at a completely different moment.

I loved that.

Because I've been trying to find the words for this since I started Babo: Panjiri isn't only a food mothers make for their daughters after having a baby. It has never been that limited in my own life. It shows up when someone is recovering, when someone needs looking after, when someone could use a little comfort. Sometimes it just shows up because someone thought of you.

It doesn't ask for very much space in your life. It's a little like a hug from someone you love when you need it most. Maryam called her story Home.

From “Home,” an original story by Maryam Akram for Babo’s Kitchen.

What Panjiri has meant in my own family

My relationship with Panjiri starts with my mom. There were years when my dad was away and she was carrying far more than we probably understood as kids. She made room for us, for herself, for whatever the day required, and somehow never made us feel like there wasn't enough.

Panjiri was part of that language of care.

I remember the khalas making it together when someone was healing or simply needed looking after. Nobody had to ask. There wasn't a 'can you please make this for me?' It just appeared. Someone roasted the ingredients, someone brought it over, and that was that.

That's probably why I've never thought of Panjiri as belonging only to postpartum. Yes, that is an important part of its story, but in the families I grew up around, its role was much wider. It was food you made when you wanted someone to feel cared for.

Panjiri doesn't have to wait for a reason

One of the things I wanted to do with Babo was take something I already knew so intimately and make room for it in everyday life. Not only when someone has had a baby. Not only when someone is recovering. And not only for people who already grew up knowing what Panjiri is.

For me, that hasn't meant leaving the tradition behind. It has meant asking what Panjiri can look like when it lives in a pantry today.

That’s part of why Babo’s version looks a little different. We roast moong lentils, nuts, seeds and makhana in ghee, making it chunkier and crunchier. It’s something you can eat straight from the bag, put over yogurt, keep at your desk, or reach for when you want something that actually feels substantial.

Why I wanted someone else to tell this story

There is only so much I can say about Panjiri from my own perspective. I make it, I sell it, and I have my own memories attached to it. I was curious about what would happen if I handed it to someone else and didn't tell them what they were supposed to feel.

That was really the point of asking Maryam. I didn't want a product review or a prettier version of Babo's story. I wanted her story.

What she made reminded me why I love food and art in the first place. Two people can know the same food and carry completely different memories of it. Maryam's Panjiri story begins with motherhood and eventually finds its way to friendship, family and home. Mine begins somewhere else. Neither needs to explain the other.

And I think there is something important in that. Panjiri has travelled through families for generations because people kept making it for one another. Every time it enters another home, it gets to collect another story.

Experience Home 

Home, by Maryam Akram. Commissioned by Babo’s Kitchen, September 2026.

Why this matters to me

We live in a time where almost everything can be measured, optimized and handed over to a tool to make faster. I use those tools too. Running a small business would be much harder without some of them.

But there are things I don't want optimized.

I didn't want data to tell me what Maryam might see in Panjiri. I didn't want to give her a list of talking points and ask her to make them beautiful. I wanted the part I couldn't predict. Her perspective, her memories, and whatever connection she found once this food entered her life.

That's why I want Babo to keep making room for work like this. I know what Panjiri means to me, but I don't want mine to be the only story we tell. Food becomes much more interesting when it passes through other people's hands.

Maryam called this one Home.

I think she found exactly what I was hoping she would. Not another way to explain Panjiri, but another reason for it to matter.

— Rubab Waheed
Founder, Babo's Kitchen

About Home

Home is an original commissioned work by Maryam Akram of @kashmirichaiandbooks for Babo's Kitchen, exploring Panjiri through motherhood, family, friendship and home.

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