In most Indian homes there was a pitara. A trunk, a tin, a lacquered box, where the things that mattered were kept. The wedding silver. A letter. The first salary, still in its envelope. You opened it rarely, and you knew exactly what was inside.

Pitara Studio began in Bengaluru with a small irritation. The hampers that arrive at Diwali are mostly filler — things nobody wants, from brands nobody can name, at prices that do not add up. Open one and you can tell, immediately, that no one chose anything.

Meanwhile, all around us, small Indian makers were doing extraordinary work in single categories. A candle. A coffee. A cup. A snack made properly. Each of them very good at one thing, and almost none of them in the same box as each other.

So we put them there.