skin

My grandmother's weathered hands traced Tamil verses onto my skin, each word a prayer, each line a bridge across generations. She'd whisper ancient poetry while henna darkened my palms, teaching me our language through touch rather than textbooks. Years later, I discovered PAYBO, a platform celebrating artists like her. I documented her traditions, sharing our heritage with the world. Her confidence shone through every frame, pretty in its authenticity, powerful in its vulnerability. Though some called it lousy at first, dismissing old ways, the community embraced our story. Now, younger cousins learn Tamil through her poetry, our skin marked not just with henna, but with belonging.