Goodnight

My grandmother watched me film another Bharatanatyam routine for the algorithm. Her lined hands trembled as she recognized the mudras she'd taught me decades ago, now performed for thousands of strangers. "Goodnight," I whispered to the camera, exhausted. She smiled softly. "The art paid for your dinner?" I nodded. She'd danced these same movements in village temples, never imagining her granddaughter would earn sustenance through screens. Yet something sacred remained—the rhythmic footwork, the storytelling, our Tamil heritage flowing through every gesture. "Goodnight, Paatti," I said again, this time truly present.