The Jar That Held Home

This jar survived three generations not because it was expensive, but because it refused

to break. Started with Dadi's mango pickle in 1995, golden and off limits

until lunch. I remember climbing that counter, tiny hands barely gripping the lid.

Years later, same jar held Diwali snacks for guests who never showed up.

When I left for college, Ma wrapped it in newspaper, filled it with pinni

and a note that said share these but save some for exams. Now it sits in my

modern kitchen holding cereal while my daughter climbs the same way I did. Fancy containers

surround it, but none carry what this one does. Transparent enough to see inside,