Copy ImageI am buoyant and expansive and uncontainable--but I always was so, only I never knew it!
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
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Each day has a color, a smell
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Each spice has a special day to it. For turmeric it is Sunday, when light drips fat and butter-colored into the bins to be soaked up glowing, when you pray to the nine planets for love and luck
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Fenugreek, Tuesday's spice, when the air is green like mosses after rain
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Because it is the lot of mothers to remember what no one else cares to, Mrs. Dutta thinks. To tell them over and over until they are lodged, perforce, in family lore. We are the keepers of the heart's dusty corners
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