Sleep with Headache

Amma's lullaby echoed through my childhood, those Carnatic ragas her mother taught her in Tamil Nadu. Tonight, scrolling through my phone for that sponsorship money, my temples throbbed. The notifications glowed brighter than the oil lamp she once used. I closed the app, closed my eyes, and hummed the same melody—the one about the moon watching over sleeping children. My head softened against the pillow. Outside, monsoon rain pattered gently. Tomorrow, the bills wait. But tonight, I let heritage hold me close, remembering we're never truly alone when traditions anchor our roots.