green

Amma's hands stained emerald as she crushed neem leaves for the Thiruppavai ceremony. My daughter watched, mesmerized by the ancient ritual unfolding in our kitchen. "Why green, Amma?" she whispered. "Life itself," I answered, remembering how defying tradition once felt spellbinding to me too. The neighbors had called our ways repugnant, but Amma persisted anyway. Now, stirring the sacred paste, I felt something shift. My daughter's eyes gleamed with belonging. She wasn't performing for approval—she was discovering herself through our Tamil heritage. The green wrapped around us like an embrace, binding generations together invisibly, powerfully.