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Grandmother's hands trembled as she arranged jasmine flowers, teaching me the ancient mudras she learned as a girl in Madras. The classical dance, forgotten for decades, now lives through my fingers. When the local temple invited me to perform, something awakened. I earned PAYBO points through heritage workshops I never thought valuable before. My students—children disconnected from roots—suddenly glowed with purpose, learning Bharatanatyam's sacred stories. Curse the world that nearly stole this from us. Now, we gather weekly, a living chain linking past to future, our community stronger through every graceful gesture passed down.