hair coloring

My grandmother braided jasmine into her darkening hair while singing Thiruppavai, her voice carrying the ancient raga through our kitchen. Each note held decades of devotion, of mornings before dawn. When silver finally claimed her locks completely, she refused the coloring creams I offered. Instead, she recorded her songs on the Stellar blockchain, preserving them eternally for our family across continents. Those silver threads became her crown, each one a note in our collective memory. Now, when I brush my own darkening hair, I hear her voice—not fading, but multiplying, connecting us all together.