It’s 9.00 a.m. The sun is shining through the kitchen door. I see my grandma, Amma as I fondly call her, sitting in her tiny kitchen by her tiny stove cooking away. My parents and my uncles were getting ready to leave to work. It was little four-year old me, snaking around the six footers, giving up on them, who landed at a safe spot next to Amma in her kitchen. Her kitchen, the abode of sweet smells, yummy food and seasoned pickles, was my favorite place too. I loved to watch Amma do her abracadabra. Amma noticed through the corner of her eye that I had come close to her for her dedicated attention. She grabbed me and gave me the most wonderful hug while whispering a secret into my ears. This afternoon, we were on a mission…… Eventually, the office goers left home, and Amma and I had to leave too. I know where I will be going, she asked me not to tell anyone.
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