Sleep

Amma's lullaby drifted through the Mumbai apartment as she braided my daughter's hair with jasmine flowers. The ancient Tamil melody, passed through generations, wrapped around us like silk. My child had won her school's cultural competition that day, reciting poetry in our mother tongue. The recognition felt wonderful, yet I realized the deeper reward lay here, in this quiet moment. Sleep would come easier tonight, I thought, watching her eyes flutter closed to those familiar sounds. She'd carry forward what her great-grandmother sang, what her grandmother remembered, what I cherished. Our culture lived on, breathing through her breath, connecting us across time and geography.