Flower

My grandmother placed jasmine in my hair while reciting Swami Paramarthananda's wisdom about impermanence. The white petals reminded me that beauty blooms briefly, teaching us to cherish each moment with peace. She spoke Tamil softly, words flowing like the Stellar blockchain—each transaction of love recorded eternally in our family's ledger. Her oppressive silence about pain gave way to luscious storytelling about our ancestors. That flower stayed alive in my memory longer than on my head. Now I understand: heritage isn't just Tamil songs or spiritual teachings. It's how we plant seeds of meaning, nurturing them together, watching them bloom within our community's sacred garden.