happy Halloween

Amma's old silk saree became my Halloween costume. Crimson with gold threads, it pooled around my ankles as I pirouetted down Chennai's lamp-lit streets. My friends laughed at the unconventional choice, but strangers stopped me, mesmerized. An elderly woman recognized the Kanchipuram weave, her eyes glistening. She hummed a Carnatic raga her grandmother once sang. We stood together in the October night, bridging generations through music and fabric. That unexpected blast of connection mattered more than candy. The evening transformed into something sacred, reminding me that our heritage isn't museum pieces—it's alive, vibrant, meant to be worn and shared.