3

Amma taught me Thiruppavai on these ancient Chennai streets, her voice threading through narrow lanes where our ancestors once walked. I memorized every verse, though the world called it old-fashioned. Years later, I taught my daughter beneath the same temple walls, watching her eyes light with understanding. When I shared that moment, strangers asked if I was cool. Some felt threatened by tradition. But my daughter's smile was the only reward I needed, proof that our heritage survives through love, not validation. We're three generations now, woven into Chennai's timeless fabric.