birds 🕊️

My grandmother taught me Bharatanatyam in our courtyard, where white doves nested above. Each mudra told stories ancient Tamil Brahmi once carved into stone. She'd gesture toward those birds, saying movement was our script made flesh. Years later, struggling in the city, I posted a simple photo of pigeons. Strangers pinned it, shared it, rewarded my longing for home. That small recognition sparked something profound. I realized my heritage wasn't lost—it lived in these gestures, these stories. Now I teach others, watching their faces light up. Those birds still watch from above, connecting us all through movement, memory, and belonging.