cravings!!!

My grandmother hums Thiruppavai while grinding coconut for payasam, her weathered hands moving with practiced grace. The kitchen fills with cardamom's warmth, turmeric's golden promise. I watch, remembering childhood mornings when these scents meant everything. "Amma, teach me," I whisper. She smiles, placing her hand over mine, guiding the stone grinder in ancient rhythms. Our Tamil heritage flows through these movements, recession-proof against time's erosion. With spunk and absolute determination, I'm learning what my grandmother always knew: some cravings run deeper than hunger. They're roots.