It started in a small kitchen in Bihar.
My mother learned to make thekua from her own mother, standing on a stool by the chulha before she could see over the counter. Every Chhath Puja, the whole house would smell of jaggery and ghee — first for our family, then for every neighbour who dropped by.
The requests never really stopped. So we turned her kitchen table into something a little more official — same wooden mould, same recipe, same hands. Every piece you order is still shaped by her, one at a time.