Animal

My grandmother called me "animal" when I'd sprint barefoot through monsoon puddles, my silk pavadai soaked and muddied. She'd laugh, shaking her head, while my mother scolded in Tamil. That wildness never left me, even after moving abroad. Years later, scrolling through old photos, I saw that untamed girl again—fierce, alive, unapologetically herself. The diaspora had tried taming me, smoothing my edges for acceptance. But heritage runs deeper than geography. Now I'm teaching my daughter Tamil songs, letting her dance freely in our living room. We're building bridges between worlds, honoring that beautiful animal spirit our ancestors knew was strength. Community isn't lost; it evolves through us.