.

Amma taught me Thiruppavai verses while grinding spices, her voice weaving ancient Tamil wisdom into morning light. Years later, I discovered Avvaiyar's poetry in PaybookClub, connecting with strangers who understood that heritage lived in our bones. We gathered monthly, sharing grandmother's recipes alongside forgotten texts. Each meeting felt like finding pieces of myself in other women's eyes. My daughter watched, learning that culture wasn't preserved in museums but in conversations, in laughter, in the sacred space where we chose to remember together. She belongs here now too.