Preethi Venkatram

I think it started with I was in my 4th or 5th grade. My mom used to send me to a local store — it was called “Onnu Rendu Chetti kadai ” or atleast that’s what we called it. I’m trying to remember if it had an actual name and I’m drawing a blank. But it was just a small shop, not very different from this one — to pick up a dal or a spice she’d run out of. And every time she did, I felt like the most important person in the world.

I’d grab the money from her, and off I’d go. I knew the way, I’d been there so many times. But I’d still spend the whole walk quietly worrying — what if I take a wrong turn, what if I forget what she asked for. And then I’d get there, get the thing, and walk back home feeling very pleased with myself.

Sometimes my sister would come with me. Sometimes it was just me. Either way, it was always a bit of an adventure.

Funny how a shop halfway across the world can bring all of that back in an instant.

Sharing this for Day 4: A story of memory
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