It was a typical Sunday morning at the Shetty household. Shika and her mother were sitting across from each other at the dining table, a Scrabble board between them. This had become their Sunday tradition, a quiet time for some friendly competition and bonding. The letters were scattered and the tiles clacked as Shika placed her word. But, as always, her mother had the upper hand. With dramatic effect, her mother added a word to the board that sealed her victory.
Shika was upset. “You always win, Mom!” she said, pushing the tiles around. “It’s like you’ve memorised the whole dictionary.”
Her mother smiled, used to Shika’s playful complaints. “Oh, come on, Shika, it’s just a game!” she teased, gathering the tiles.
“I know,” Shika said, “but I’m tired of playing Scrabble every week. You only ever want to play this game!”
Her mother chuckled. “Okay, okay. Maybe it’s time for something new. What do you have in mind?”
Shika’s eyes lit up. “Next week, I will pick a game that I want. And it won’t be Scrabble for sure!”
“Deal,” her mother agreed, a playful glint in her eyes.
Later that day, as they all sat around the living room, Shika turned to her grandmother, who was sitting comfortably on the couch with a cup of tea. “Grandma, I need a new game for next Sunday. Do you have any suggestions?”
Her grandmother, always full of ideas, smiled warmly. “Why don’t you try Channa Mane? It’s a traditional Mangalorean board game that I used to play when I was your age. It was fun and so tricky!”
Shika raised an eyebrow. “Channa Mane? Never heard of it! How do you play?”
Grandma grinned mischievously. “I’ll teach you.”
The next Sunday arrived and Shika was eager to show her mother what she had learned. The family gathered around the living room once again—father, mother, Shika and grandma along with the Channa Mane board set up in the middle. Instead of counters or pieces, the game used small seeds that were carefully arranged on a board with carved holes.
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