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When I was seven, I spent every day that summer at my Mumma's house in Karachi. Mumma was my maternal grandmother and really, everyone from the ancient gardener to the youngest grandchild called her Mumma. To call her anything else would simply offend her and no one wanted to bear Mumma's wrath. As far as her house went, I use the term house loosely, because it was more a palace, at least in
