The old Horlicks jug reminded me of my youth and cold nights sitting in front of the TV with my parents. My mother would make us a Horlicks and milk drink before bed. I still remember its smell and its sweet malty taste.
It also reminded me of this poem:
This Clay Jug
by Kabir
Inside this clay jug there are canyons
and pine mountains, and the maker of
canyons and pine mountains!
All seven oceans are inside, and
hundreds of millions of stars.
The acid that tests gold is there, and
the one who judges jewels.
And the music from the strings
no one touches, and the source of
all water.
If you want the truth, I will tell you the truth:
Friend, listen: the God whom I love is inside.