Milk Sachets Aparna Narayanan
She cradled it with one hand, snipping a bit of the top corner off. Quickly she tipped it into a vessel, pouring the milk out just so. The Indian milk sachet confounds: it wobbles every which way, spouts milk no matter how you try to make a clean job of opening it. Except in my mother's deft hands there was not a wasted drop anywhere when she was done. Let me tell you: this takes some artistry. Not that we knew it then. We only saw that the empty sachets, slick to the touch with fats and oils, were not discarded in the dustbin. Instead, with infinite care, she rinsed each cover - "cover" was her word and slapped it on the kitchen tiles, where it bloomed and spread like mould. What a collage! As her handiwork grew, so did our rage. How ugly it was, and how uncouth. How not to be ashamed of house and mistress? So we had our say. 56
