I used to love going round to the shop on a Saturday morning with my 50p to spend on sweets. This was far past the time when I thought I could just take sweets without asking… or paying! Kailas was always there, part of my childhood stability and how lucky to have always been met by her bright smile.
I remember her talking to neighbours, asking how their lives were, forever interested and genuinely caring. The shop was an extension of her and of course, Dipika. And if Dipika had always felt like the sister I never had, then Kallas was family too, and a family that was I was lucky enough to live right next to. Her laugh was mischievous, it became her whole face and Dipika made her laugh a lot! In fact, I knew a lot about Kallas through seeing her with Dipika. How she had a great sense of humour, how she was fiercely protective, how her love was boundless for her family.
I was allowed beyond the shop! I remember feeling special, being able to walk through the back and skip up the stairs, to be allowed to run around the house and for there to always, ALWAYS, be the best cooking I’ll ever eat ready for me. This was before I knew what generosity really was. I probably grew up thinking that this would happen everywhere, that home-cooked snacks and warming, comforting curries with stacks of bread would be offered to me throughout life. How incredibly wonderful and unique to have had the Patels at the very centre of my childhood. With Kallas at the very centre of them.
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