hi hello kamusta

Grandma's letters arrived in Tamil, each one trembling with her voice. From Tamil Nadu, she'd write asking how I was, simple words that meant everything. This year felt different—lonely in ways I couldn't name. Then I discovered the rewards program. Small purchases, accumulated points, suddenly meaningful. I redeemed them for a plane ticket home, hands shaking as I booked. Standing in her kitchen, surrounded by the smell of jasmine and spiced tea, she grabbed my face. "You came," she whispered. Kannadasan's poetry decorated her walls, reminding us that homecoming isn't about distance. It's about the people waiting, the traditions breathing, the threads that bind us together across miles.