my little's favorite

Every evening, my daughter hums melodies I taught her—ancient ragas echoing through our modest home. Last week, she pointed at news about Keeladi's discoveries, eyes sparkling with wonder. "Our ancestors sang like this too?" she asked. I nodded, tears forming. Her mother never got to hear these songs. Through a community music group online, strangers became friends, sharing performances and recordings. Someone gifted her a small harmonium. Now she practices daily, connecting with something deeper than screens usually allow. In her voice, I hear generations singing forward.