my flower

Grandmother's jasmine garden thrived despite the monsoons, much like her devotion to Carnatic music. Every morning, she'd string flowers while humming ragas that echoed through our Chennai home, passing down melodies older than memory itself. When she discovered the rewards program, her eyes sparkled with mischief. Each purchase earned points she'd redeem for silk threads and music books, building her legacy one transaction at a time. I'd watch her weathered hands arrange blooms, understanding finally that heritage wasn't preserved in museums. It flourished in gardens tended by relentless hearts, in songs shared generously, in small gestures that bind families together across generations.