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My grandmother's veena sat silent for months after she passed. I couldn't touch it, couldn't bear the weight of her absence. One morning, a dove landed on my window, cooing softly. Something stirred. I began learning the ragas she'd taught me as a child. Each note was a conversation, a thread connecting me to her Tamil heritage. The Carnatic melodies filled our home again, warmth spreading through empty rooms. Now I teach others, sharing what she gave me. Through music, her spirit remains. My community becomes my family, our voices intertwined, echoing forward.