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The day begins with a soft war. My grandmother (Amma) is already up, having finished her morning tea and kolam (rice flour designs) at the doorstep. My father is fighting with the newspaper crossword. My mother is the undisputed General of this army.

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The sun hadn’t yet cleared the horizon in Pune, but the Kulkarni household was already humming with the rhythmic sounds of a day beginning. The day begins with a soft war