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The Moral Burden of Almond Butter I found them while clearing my small pantry. Sitting at the back of the shelf were these two small jars, one with a golden lid, the other with a black one. I remembered one came in a Diwali hamper, the other as a thoughtful gift from someone I had met for the first time and to whom I had in my frequent bouts of unabashed frankness and stupidity, told I ‘love’ almonds. The next time I met her, she leaned forward, her eyes wide with mystery, her voice a mere confidential whisper near my neck, “You must try this, it is not regular almond butter,” and thrust a package into my hand. I came home and opened it. Inside was a 200-gram jar that displayed a price more than my monthly milk bill. I kept it at the back of the shelf and of my memory. It stayed there hibernating, till a few days ago when I was clearing up to prepare for the humid weather. What must have looked like a spread when packed, now had acquired a different personality. The o...