Sell the season without losing the plot.
Lanemi runs your regular subscription boxes and weekend treats all year, then holds the line at festival time: orders capped to what the kitchen can make, advances held safely in wallets, rounds slotted for the evening, and books that stay straight through the rush. In your currency, wherever you make sweets.
Fifty steady weeks, then ten days that decide your name.
Most of the year is calm trade: the monthly laddu box, the Sunday dessert, the office tray on Fridays. Then the festival fortnight arrives, and a year’s reputation rides on orders, advances and a kitchen running at its ceiling.
The oversold festival.
The counter says yes to everyone, the kitchen makes four hundred boxes a day, and on the last evening someone’s order does not exist. That family never comes back.
Advances in a drawer.
Half paid now, half on delivery, scribbled on a slip. By the tenth day of the rush, the slips disagree with the drawer.
The paused box still billed.
A subscription customer travels, the box goes out anyway, and goodwill pays for the mistake.
Dabbas that never return.
Steel boxes and tins go out with gifts and drift away, uncounted.
The kitchen sets the limit. The season stays sweet.
Steady trade that runs itself.
The monthly assorted box and the weekend dessert run as subscriptions on their own schedules, paused and resumed by the customer from their phone. A paused month is never made and never billed. Anything sold by the weighed gram at a counter price is billed at the scale’s number.
Festival days capped at the kitchen’s ceiling.
Give each product a daily production cap. When the four hundredth box of the day is ordered, the four hundred and first is offered the next day instead of a promise you cannot keep. Overselling stops at order time, not at delivery time as heartbreak.
Every festival order against a date.
Orders name their delivery day, join that day’s locked count, and show in a pick list your kitchen can actually cook to. Advances go into the customer’s wallet the moment they are paid, cash or online through your own payment account, so nothing lives on a slip in a drawer.
Rounds timed to when sweets are wanted.
An evening slot with its own cutoff for homes, a morning one for offices, each with its own sequenced, printable runsheet. If gift boxes go out in steel or tins you want back, container deposits count them per customer and refund on return.
The neighbourhood engine.
A first-box offer for new customers, a referral reward for the aunt who told the whole building, and a festival campaign to everyone who ordered last year. Every offer posts to the same ledger as the sales, so generosity never muddies the books.
Built for fifty calm weeks and ten wild days.
| What you get | What it does for you |
|---|---|
| Subscription boxes | Monthly and weekend treats, paused by the customer |
| Daily production caps | The festival’s overselling problem, solved by a number |
| One-time orders by date | Festival orders locked to their day, with a pick list |
| Wallet-held advances | Festival advances recorded the moment they are paid |
| Evening and morning slots | Rounds timed to when sweets are wanted, each with its own cutoff |
| Sold-by-weight billing | Counter-style pricing by the weighed gram where you use it |
| Container deposits | Optional, for steel dabbas and tins that should come home |
| Offers, referrals and campaigns | The neighbourhood engine, accounted properly |
| Cash custody | Doorstep and advance cash tracked to the books |
| Disputes and credits | A crushed box settled with a photo and a fair credit |
| Honest limit | No temperature or cold-chain monitoring is claimed. Scheduling keeps perishables moving fast; the fridge remains your craft |
Every market has its festival fortnight.
Diwali in one city, Eid in another, Christmas or Lunar New Year elsewhere: the calendar changes, the rush does not. Choose your currency, set your caps to your kitchen, and keep your food-safety licences on file, with a reminder before they lapse.
Built by people who pack against a locked count.
Lanemi began on a farm round where the night’s plan decided the morning’s work, with no slack for guessing. A sweet kitchen in festival week is that discipline at its most intense, and the locked daily count at the heart of this platform is exactly what that week needs.
The things sweet kitchens ask us first.
Festivals always end with an oversold day. How does this stop it?
With a cap you set per product per day. Orders fill the day up to the kitchen’s real ceiling and then roll to the next day, politely, at order time, instead of at delivery time as heartbreak.
Customers pay half in advance for festival orders. Where does that live?
In their wallet, recorded the moment it is paid, cash or online through your own payment account. The balance settles at delivery, and no advance is ever a scrap of paper in a drawer.
Can I run a monthly box and still do festival chaos?
That is the design. Subscriptions run themselves all year, and festival one-time orders land on top with their own caps and pick lists. Neither breaks the other.
My ice-cream line melts. Do you track temperature?
No, and we will not pretend to. What the platform gives you is tight scheduling: evening slots, sequenced short rounds, and a locked count so nothing waits around. The cold chain itself stays your craft.
How do I reach last year’s festival customers?
With a campaign to exactly that list, and a referral reward for the ones who bring their relatives. Every offer posts to the ledger, so generosity never muddies the books.
Do my gift dabbas come back?
If you want them to. Switch on container deposits and every tin is counted against the customer holding it, refunded when it comes home, written off cleanly when it does not.
One good idea for your round, once a week.
Short, practical, and no filler. Leave any time.
Ready to let the kitchen set the limit?
Book a demo and we will set it up with your boxes, your caps, your festival calendar and your currency.