rainy season

The monsoon drummed against grandmother's terrace in Chennai, where she'd taught me to dance in puddles as a child. Those memories flooded back watching my daughter spin in the same courtyard, rainwater darkening the ancient stone tiles. My mother had saved every reward point from PAYBO, finally purchasing the traditional silk saree she'd always dreamed of wearing during Margazhi season. When she wrapped it around herself that evening, tears mixed with rain on her cheeks. "Your grandmother would be proud," she whispered. The downpour continued, blessing our ancestral home and the stories we'd carry forward together.