Some guessed it was for spices, others for serving tea. Every attempt led us back to the same feeling: it wasn’t just an object—it was a connection to someone we loved.
Suddenly, the mystery wasn’t mysterious anymore—it was deeply sentimental. The tool became a bridge between generations, built on quiet rituals and shared moments. Today, my wife uses it just as her grandmother once did, scooping tea leaves on peaceful mornings. And each time she does, it feels like her grandmother is still with her—present in the warmth, the memory, and the tradition she left behind.