The kitchen was a sacred place in my grandmother`s Kolkata flat. It`s where I would watch her slice us ripe mangoes and fresh guavas on an old boti; where we boiled our water for bathing; and where I first learned about the spellbinding power of Indian beauty. On Sundays, during my annual family trips to India, I remember my grandmother sitting me down in front of her. First, she would massage a mixture of egg whites, coconut oil and castor oil into my hair. Later, she applied a turmeric-based mixture, with variations of raw honey, chickpea flour, neem oil and coconut milk, onto my face. After washing it all through, my grandmother would slowly and gently comb my hair in front of the full-length mirror that was attached to her rickety, cherry-wood wardrobe - while I`d stay put, studying my own reflection. My face would glow; my hair felt full and healthy.