Hahaha he also like to have ribbon

Amma's letters from Srivilliputhur arrived yellowed and creased, filled with stories about little Arjun. "He also likes to have ribbon," she'd written, describing her grandson adorning his hair just like his sister. Miles away in America, I laughed until tears came, imagining his mischievous grin. That ribbon became my miracle—proof that heritage survives oceans and time. When I finally visited, Arjun proudly wore one, unashamed. In that moment, I understood something profound: our children carry our stories forward, stitching together past and present. The diaspora's greatest gift isn't what we earn; it's what we preserve.