When Mom Switched to Plastic and I Got Mad
I knew something was wrong the moment I opened the kitchen drawer and saw it — a bright turquoise plastic…
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Refilling the Jar That Was Never Empty
There was a jar in our kitchen that, somehow, was never empty. It wasn’t the biggest jar or the most…
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Dabba Diplomacy at the Office
In most workplaces, alliances are formed over coffee, in hurried elevator chats, or through cautiously exchanged LinkedIn endorsements. But if…
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The Sweet Tin We Never Opened Too Early
Every family kitchen has its sacred objects — the pickle jar with rules, the worn tawa for Sunday dosas, the…
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How One Steel Box Carried Three Generations
We have a box in our house. Not the kind that holds heirloom jewelry or vintage photos — no velvet…
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The Hidden Compartment in My Dabba
Every Indian school kid knows the unspoken hierarchy of lunchboxes. The size of the tiffin, the number of compartments, the…
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Our Pickle Jar Had Rules
It sat on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, next to the jars of roasted papad and forgotten baking…
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The Tiffin That Always Smelled Like Home
Before there were meal preps and microwave-safe containers, there were tiffins. Stainless steel, stacked, slightly dented, always warm to the…
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The Friday Dinner That Signals the Weekend
Friday evening doesn’t start with the clock hitting 6 PM. It starts in the kitchen, when something sizzles differently. When…
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Pooja First, Then Breakfast
It’s hard to explain to someone outside the culture why you’re not allowed to eat idli until the tulsi plant…