my selfie

Grandmother held the phone awkwardly, squinting at the screen. I'd convinced her to join PaybookClub, where her Bharatanatyam students shared performances and stories. Today, she wanted to capture herself mid-mudra, fingers curved like temple sculptures. "Just press here," I whispered, guiding her weathered hand. She laughed, that warm sound echoing through our Chennai home, blending with distant veena notes from the practice room. The photo emerged imperfect—tilted, her eyes half-closed—but absolutely alive. She posted it without hesitation. Within minutes, former students and community members flooded the comments with hearts, sharing their own dance journey beginnings. "This," she said, smiling at the phone, "is how we keep our art breathing."