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Showing posts from June 3, 2014

The Pickle Jar.....

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Under the kitchen slab, rested the large pickle jar. The old lady of  the house was the sole manufacturer of the contents in it. Sometimes raw mangoes my mouth is already sour, sometimes lemons and sometimes I don't know what she added in that jar.
                         Every 2- 3 days she used to shake the jar and the sound  echoed till the roof with us eavesdropping upon the moving delicacy inside. Sometimes I stole a little piece only to find her standing and staring  with scorching eyes and lips opening to say,"Don't you dare break the jar. I love pickles  like anything."

                         I loved pickles yes, but not the oil in it for it would always burn my throat and  irritate my stomach. Every now and then I would swear that I won't have it again but the greed always emerged victorious, when I saw everyone enjoying it with delight.


                         Then one day, the old lady packed the tiffin box with chapattis and aloo gobi ki sabji to…