My nose catches the initial scent of my mother’s cooking. As I lay in my room, I am interrupted by the smell of onions tossed in olive oil. My stomach begins to grumble so I run downstairs and hop on the counter of my kitchen as I watch my mother cook a typical family meal: snake gourd with yogurt rice and mango pickle. My eyes fixate on the pan. I watch as the snake gourd, mustard seeds, green chilli, and garlic flakes are added in next. I am asked to do the stirring at this point and try to do so while dodging the popping oils coming my way. Meanwhile, my mother prepares the cumin and red chilli peppers by grinding them with a mortar and pestle. She always allowed me to do the honors of adding salt since she says I have a keen eye and taste for the perfect amount. While I stir, the smell of spices waft out from the kitchen and fill the entire house with its distinct aroma. I pass over the baton also known as the wooden spatula to my mother and head over to...