peace na agd😅✌✌✌

Amma called again about the job. Another spreadsheet, another corporate ladder. I smiled, nodded, promised to apply. But peace came differently this year—in my grandmother's kitchen, watching her teach my daughter to roll dosa, Tamil words dancing between generations like music never forgotten. The diaspora scattered us far, yet these moments stitched something whole. My daughter giggled, flour dusting her nose, asking questions in accented Tamil. This wasn't about earning more or climbing higher. This was about paying back something deeper—honoring the roots that traveled oceans, the heritage that whispered through kitchen steam. Peace, finally, looked like home.