pillow

Amma's embroidered pillow arrived yesterday, its silk threads depicting the Srivilliputhur temple's golden gopuram. I held it, remembering her hands stitching by lamplight in our ancestral home, each stitch a whispered prayer. When I shared it in PaybookClub, reactions divided sharply. Some called it nostalgic excess; others wept recognizing their own mothers' craftsmanship. The controversy didn't matter. What mattered was Mrs. Krishnan commenting that her granddaughter finally understood why heritage matters. That pillow now holds my head each night, grounding me between two worlds, reminding me that home isn't lost—it's woven into our very fabric, passed forward through those who remember.