skin

My grandmother's weathered hands traced the kolam patterns while reciting Thiruppavai verses. Each line etched stories into my memory like ink on aged paper. When I moved away, those hands became my anchor, her voice my constant. Years later, I shared our family's sacred songs online, never expecting connection. Strangers became friends, then community. They saw themselves in our Tamil heritage, in those ancient prayers meant for December mornings. My skin carries her prayers now. Through screens and hearts, we've woven something precious—a digital kolam connecting souls across distances, keeping our heritage alive together.