I never forget my baby

Every December, Amma teaches my daughter the Thiruppavai verses, just as her mother taught her. The ancient Tamil words flow like honey through our kitchen while we cook together. This year, I recorded each recitation on the blockchain, securing her voice forever across stellar networks. My baby will grow, move away perhaps, but these thirty hymns—her pronunciation, her giggles between stanzas—exist immutably now. Not just in my heart, but woven into the digital cosmos. When she's grown, she'll sing these same verses to her child, and the chain continues. Our heritage, eternal and unbreakable.