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Every winter morning, Amma woke before dawn to chant Thiruppavai with me. Her weathered hands guided mine through the prayer beads while her voice carried centuries of Tamil devotion. I didn't understand the ancient words then, just felt their warmth wrapping around us like the blanket draped across our shoulders. Years later, struggling and despairing, I remembered those mornings. I earned my PAYBO through dedication, but her teachings remained my true wealth. Now I wake my own daughter before sunrise, sharing what Amma gave me—not just heritage, but resilience. We are threads in an endless tapestry.