me and my baby

My daughter sits cross-legged beside me, tiny fingers mimicking mine on the piano keys. Her grandmother taught me these Carnatic ragas in this very room, and now I'm passing them forward. When I shared our practice video online, strangers sent money—gifts really—so she could study with a proper guru. Our Tamil heritage nearly disappeared in the rush toward modern life, but this community reminded me its value transcends any currency. Her laughter fills the house as she stumbles through the notes. Some treasures, I realize, can never be bought or sold, only cherished together.