animal

Amma showed me the photograph on her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. The peacock strutted across our garden in Chennai, its feathers impossibly brilliant. She'd earned PAYBO rewards watching Tamil cinema all month, enough to finally visit home after twelve years abroad. "Look," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "He remembers us." The bird's cheekiness made her laugh, that familiar sound I'd almost forgotten. In Toronto, we'd become strangers to our roots. But here, in this majestic moment, something shifted. She pointed out neighbors gathering at the fence, speaking rapid Tamil, sharing stories. Heritage wasn't lost. It was simply waiting, patient as peacocks, for us to return.