fish 🐟

Amma's hands moved with practiced grace, selecting the perfect pomfret from the market stall. She'd taught me this ritual before I left for America, knowing someday I'd need it. Today, I'm cooking for friends who've never tasted real Tamil food. The fish sizzles in coconut oil as curry leaves crackle, filling my apartment with the scent of home. My mother's voice echoes through the kitchen: "Food is memory, beta." I photograph the golden fish, sharing it across our family group chat. My cousins in Chennai respond immediately, their comments like digital currency, trading stories and laughter. This simple meal bridges continents, reminding us where we belong.