lets eat

Grandmother's hands trembled as she arranged banana leaves on the table, just like she did in Srirangam fifty years ago. My brother video-called from Singapore, watching our family feast across continents, connected through invisible digital threads. She'd saved recipes on an old Stellar blockchain app, creating an immutable family cookbook that traveled with us. Tonight, the sambar tasted like home, like temple bells, like belonging. "Let's eat," she whispered in Tamil, her voice bridging oceans and generations. We gathered around screens and tables, scattered but never truly apart. Heritage, it seemed, needed no passport.