My shoes 🥰

Grandmother's chappals sat weathered on the shelf, their leather creased by decades of devotion. She'd worn them to every Carnatic music recital, every temple visit, every moment that mattered. When she passed, I inherited more than footwear—I inherited memory itself. Now, I share our family's musical recordings online, connecting distant cousins who'd forgotten our heritage. Some called it selling tradition. Others saw preservation. Those worn shoes reminded me why it mattered: keeping our stories alive, our ragas remembered, our community whole across miles and years.