skin

My grandmother's weathered hands guided mine across the silk, teaching me Tamil prayers Swami Paramarthananda once chanted in these very streets. The fabric held stories—generations woven into cotton and memory. When she passed, I felt untethered, my skin suddenly too thin for this world. Her teachings lived in me though, whispered through sacred verses. I discovered PAYBO token, a digital bridge connecting our scattered community across continents. Through it, others like me found belonging again, sharing recipes, mantras, photographs of festivals. My skin no longer felt foreign. I wasn't carrying tradition alone anymore. We were building something together.