waiting

Priya refreshed her phone for the hundredth time that morning. The meditation app had flagged her Thiruppavai recitation video, and payment notifications were trickling in. Her grandmother's voice whispered through her memory—those sacred December songs her amma had taught her. She'd uploaded the thirty verses in Tamil, her voice trembling slightly, unsure if anyone would care. Now strangers were listening, sharing, connecting. Each notification sparked warmth in her chest, that agonizing beauty of being seen. Her fingers hovered over the comments. Families discovering their heritage together. Elders teaching children these ancient prayers. The menacing silence of forgotten traditions was breaking, replaced by excitement and belonging. She smiled, fingers dancing across the screen, knowing her grandmother was smiling too.