Amma’s Special Box
- Writers Pouch
- Mar 28, 2015
- 3 min read
Updated: Apr 8
For as long as I can remember, Amma had a secret special box on the kitchen platform which was always tantalizingly close but was just out of reach. When I was five years of age, I’ve always wanted nothing more than to open the box and see its mysterious contents. Nothing seemed fancier to me.
Neither the blue flames erupting from the stove nor the sharp knife glinting under the harsh tube light. Even the colourful display of various cereals and pulses didn’t draw my attention as much as this box drew me towards it.
In reality, there wasn’t anything unique about the way the box looked. It was just like most others. A little steel utensil, plain and unobtrusive. However, it was inconspicuous to everyone except me and so I wanted to know everything it possessed.
My fascination started when I was four years of age. I still remember returning from the hospital after a vaccination. I was bawling and the horrendous hospital smell was everywhere adding to my woes. I was red and misty with chocolate smeared over my round face after my parent’s last-ditch attempt to pacify me failed.
