Lunchbox Diplomacy: When Office Dabbas Become Icebreakers
My first real job wasn’t glamorous. It involved spreadsheets, shared desks, and air-conditioning that was either absent or arctic. But…
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The Secret Compartment in My Mom’s Tiffin
My mother’s tiffin was a stainless-steel totem pole. Four-tiered. Clasped tighter than my childhood secrets. Each dabba had a designated…
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Refilling the Dabba: Food as a Loop, Not a Line
In my childhood kitchen in Mumbai, there were no empty containers. Only ones waiting to be refilled. The rice tin,…
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The Jar That Holds Only Diwali Sweets
There’s a jar in my mother’s kitchen that sits untouched for 358 days a year. Round, dented at the edges,…
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Temple Coconuts and Leaf Bowls: Edible, Compostable, Devotional
In a world racing toward biodegradable everything, India has been quietly eating, praying, and composting its way through life for…
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The Plastic Box Era: When Moms Switched from Steel to Tupperware
There was a time when our kitchen shelves gleamed with steel. Rows of dabbas—round, sturdy, stackable. You could drop them,…
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Don’t Touch the Pickle Jar
In every Indian kitchen—usually on the highest shelf, in a sunlit corner or behind an intimidating steel mesh—sits a jar…
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My Grandfather’s Steel Lunch Box Outlived His Job
Long after my grandfather stopped working at the Central Railway accounts office in Mumbai, his steel lunch box continued reporting…
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The Tiffin That Always Came Back Empty
In every Indian household, there exists a minor culinary miracle: the tiffin that always came back empty. Not because the…
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The Spice Box as Family Archive
There’s an object in every Indian kitchen that feels more like a personality than a container. It doesn’t beep. It…