Few things can bring as much joy and warmth as a friend dropping in with a dabba of home-cooked food, especially when it’s lovingly packed with one of your absolutely favourite things to eat.

You try to pry open the lid as quickly as you can, your fingers almost trembling in excitement and anticipation of what’s inside. As the comforting aroma wafts out and envelopes you in its wholesome goodness, you are transported back to simpler times when pure unadulterated love came straight out of stainless steel tiffin boxes…

When you caught trains and buses or cycled across to meet each other face-to-face, and carried along baskets of fruit or tender coconut water to visit someone in hospital or recuperating at home.

When you dropped in unannounced just to say Hi and never left without a meal, because no matter how much food had been cooked there was always enough to go around.

When you were a fussy eater and both your parents once came to school to feed you your favourite soup and prawn pulao. And it didn’t matter if you puked a few minutes later because the smell of the other kids’ food made you sick.

When Granny always took aside some of the minced meat for you and fried it with extra onions – “lots and lots of onions” – as per your instructions because that’s the only way you liked it.

When you went to answer monstrous exams and took the foil-wrapped sandwiches out of your bag during lunch break, and all the other kids attacked them because they were "so yummy!", and you proudly said, “My Daddy made them.”

When life began and ended every single day, you forgot about yesterday and tomorrow was something you didn’t think about until you actually got to it.

When love and fear were the only emotions you knew and you somehow always felt safe even if there were monsters on your path.

When life was actually quite complicated only you didn’t realise it because you were simple...