Not much is left from Dindial Boodram’s Floral Park home aside from a three-inch stack of photographs, many of them peeling, caked in dirt and crumpled at the edges. The images show Dindial’s wife, Ghanwatti, smiling under a wedding veil and provide a glimpse into carefree times at 80-50 260th Street, which was leveled in late April by a gas explosion that left the three Boodram children motherless, just weeks before Mother’s Day.
Nearly two months later, and put up in a temporary home in Floral Park, Chris, Kevin and Ryan Boodram, ages 7, 9 and 11, were preparing for Father’s Day.
They excitedly showed off a card they picked out for their father, which, when opened, revealed a small mirror that cast the reflection of “the world’s greatest dad.” And they held up a Simpson’s T-shirt – Dindial introduced them to the television show – that was big enough to envelop their three little bodies.
On Father’s Days past, Ghanwatti – who was 40 and the lone occupant of the house at the time of the blast – and the kids would make him breakfast, lunch and dinner, Dindial recalled. But Chris, his youngest, confessed with a toothless smile that he and his brothers don’t know how to cook.
While they’ve yet to become chefs, however, Dindial admitted that since his wife’s tragic death, he has had to teach his sons “to adapt” and take on house chores.
“They’re going to almost grow up in front of my eyes,” Dindial said, glancing around at his precocious kids who eagerly fetched photos and remembrances of their mom and spoke about her with maturity beyond their years. “They don’t know what a kid’s supposed to be right now.”
Nevertheless, Dindial said, his sons have their moments when, like all youngsters, they yearn for their mother. They miss the al fresco tree-house dinners – “Now he’ll have to do that with us,” Chris said, smiling at his father – and camping in the backyard. They miss her curried goat and her bacon, which Chris, licking his lips, called “goooood.”
Dindial said that Kevin, who used to call for his mother when he couldn’t sleep, has taken to resting her photo next to him in bed.
“She will always try her best and work her hardest and do the best for us,” Kevin said of his mom, speaking in the future tense, as if hoping for her return.
But the children understand Ghanwatti is gone forever.
“They’re smart kids,” Dindial explained, adding that the pressure is on him now.
“I’m Mom and Dad now,” he said.
Sacrifices will be made and changes to the family’s lifestyle will take effect, Dindial noted. But, above all else, Dindial is striving to achieve some element of normalcy again, and, he emphasized, he has the community to thank for its overwhelming support.
Donations and gift cards have poured in since the tragedy. Local camps have offered to take the boys free this summer. City Councilmember David Weprin helped set up a trust fund for the family at Capital One Bank on Hillside Avenue, and the kids’ teachers and principal at P.S. 115 gave them handheld video game systems since, Dindial said, “they lost everything.”
“Everybody reached out,” Dindial said of the community. “They said, ‘We want you back. You were such nice neighbors. Come back.’”
But Dindial admits he has a lot of recovering to do before he considers any future plans, like rebuilding on his old property. For now, he said, his focus is on his kids.
“I’ve been through a lot,” Dindial said. “I’m looking at the kids and they’re giving me the energy to keep going.”
He went on, his voice breaking and tears running down his cheeks: “My wife’s given me a great start. It’s my duty now to pick up from where she left off.”
