He loved the new bucket. It was made of stainless steel – by all means better than the plastic one he had had earlier – and shone like a freshly-minted coin.
“Like you know anything about stainless steel.” laughed his mother that morning. “Or wait,” her face grew serious, “don’t tell me you have been getting friendly with that precocious son of the dhobi again.”
“Of course not Ma.” he crossed his fingers behind his back. “I will take the kid with me today.”
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 