flow

Amma's hands moved like water across the rice flour, creating kolam patterns at dawn. Her grandmother had taught her these sacred designs, passed down through generations of Tamil women. Each morning, her fingers remembered stories older than memory. The neighbor paused to admire the intricate blooms. Village children gathered, mesmerized. In that moment, something precious flowed between them—a living connection to their ancestors' wisdom. Later, Amma's granddaughter sketched the same patterns, determined to carry forward what made their family's heritage breathe. The kolam dissolved, but the love endured, cradled in capable hands, celebrated by those who understood its meaning.