SEVENTEEN

Amma's voice carried through our Chennai kitchen as she recited Thiruppavai, her fingers moving through the prayer beads with practiced grace. At seventeen, I finally understood why she woke before dawn for thirty days each winter. The devotion wasn't about reward. It was about belonging to something timeless, something that connected us to generations of women who'd sung these same verses. My friends thought I was old-fashioned, but when I joined Amma's circle, I discovered world-class peace in those ancient Tamil words. The real reward? Becoming part of our grandmother's legacy, our community's beating heart.