CREAM CONES AND salted biscuits were the two simple snacks I adored as a child growing up in Dhaka.
Ever since I moved away, I’ve often said—half-jokingly, half-longingly—that one day, when I return to Dhaka, I want to eat them again. Just once.
My family always laughs when I say that. “That’s so 80s!” they tease. “No one eats that stuff anymore. Dhaka’s changed. There’s way better food now—fusion, continental, all kinds of things.”
They weren’t wrong. Dhaka really has changed. It’s faster, flashier, and more global than ever. You can get anything here now—Korean barbecue, French pastries, sushi delivered to your door. But even with all the options, I still craved something as humble as a cream cone and a salted biscuit.
Then my wife gently pointed something out: “You know… It’s not really the food you miss. It’s the people you associate with that food.”
And as soon as she said it, I knew she was right.
When I was a child, after school, I used to visit my grandma’s house. She would welcome me with a big hug that seemed to melt away all my worries. Then she’d ask, “What shall I get you?”
She’d send the maid out with a few takas in hand, with clear instructions: Cream cones from the corner bakery. Salty biscuits—the square kind. And a bottle of Coca-Cola, chilled.
We’d sit together as I munched away, and she’d just watch me, smiling. Maybe she had tea. Maybe she told a story. I honestly don’t remember the words. But I remember the feeling, being seen, being loved, being safe.
That’s what those snacks meant to me. They weren’t just food. They were a symbol of her love, her care, her constant presence.
My grandmother passed away 30 years ago. I haven’t had cream cones or salty biscuits since. And maybe I’ve avoided them all these years because I knew deep down, without her, they just wouldn’t taste the same.
May Allah have mercy on the people we love, and reunite us with them in His eternal gardens.
جَنَّـٰتُ عَدْنٍۢ يَدْخُلُونَهَا وَمَن صَلَحَ مِنْ ءَابَآئِهِمْ وَأَزْوَٰجِهِمْ وَذُرِّيَّـٰتِهِمْ ۖ وَٱلْمَلَـٰٓئِكَةُ يَدْخُلُونَ عَلَيْهِم مِّن كُلِّ بَابٍۢ
سَلَـٰمٌ عَلَيْكُم بِمَا صَبَرْتُمْ ۚ فَنِعْمَ عُقْبَى ٱلدَّارِ
Gardens of eternal residence, which they will enter—along with the righteous among their parents, their spouses, and their descendants. And the angels will enter upon them from every gate, saying, ‘Peace be upon you for your patience. How excellent is the final home! (ar-Ra’d, 23–24)
