BABY SLEEPING

Ancient Tamil mothers sang the same lullabies my grandmother taught me, their melodies surviving millennia like the pottery shards unearthed at Keeladi. My daughter sleeps peacefully in my arms while I rock her, whispering words that connect her to ancestors who walked these very streets centuries ago. The excavation revealed how our people thrived, loved, and cherished their young ones. Each artifact catapulted my understanding of our roots deeper. My reward isn't recognition, but knowing I'm passing down something sacred—a cultural thread unbroken through time. She stirs softly, and I smile. Our heritage lives through her breath.