Every good gathering begins with warmth.

It all began in a warm family kitchen in the heart of India, where dinner rarely ended when the plates were cleared.

The elders would reach for the little silver dabba of mukhwas. Someone would start humming an old Bollywood tune. Another person would pick up the next line.

And before anyone knew it, antakshari had begun.

Forgotten lyrics. Wrong guesses. Endless teasing. Loud laughter. And that final victorious line.

Somewhere between the music, the mukhwas and those extra few minutes together, an ordinary meal became a memory.