Amma’s Special Box

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For as long as I can remember, Amma had a secret, special box on the kitchen platform, always tantalisingly close but just out of reach. When I was five, I 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.

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