Breakfast was served on the floor.
A bowl. Steel, the kind we used for leftovers in Maa's kitchen. In it, some kind of porridge—daliya, I thought, the smell of milk and cardamom rising, the same spice from his chai.

Breakfast was served on the floor.
A bowl. Steel, the kind we used for leftovers in Maa's kitchen. In it, some kind of porridge—daliya, I thought, the smell of milk and cardamom rising, the same spice from his chai.

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