ALONE

Amma's voice echoes through my apartment as I light the lamp for Thiruppavai recitations. The forty verses she taught me drift from my speakers, connecting me across miles to family gathered in Chennai. My phone glows with messages—cousins sharing prayer collections, grandmother's blessings arriving as voice notes. I felt isolated moving away, but these ancient Tamil songs became my bridge home. Each dawn recitation tethers me to something unchanging and sacred. The tradition my grandmother carried now lives through me, digitally woven yet deeply real. I'm never truly alone when singing my inheritance.