Breakfast

Amma's hands moved across the kitchen like ancient mudras, grinding rice and lentils into silken batter. The same rhythms her grandmother performed before dawn, before temple dances, before the world demanded anything else. My daughter watched, learning each precise motion. Outside, notifications pinged—blockchain transactions, crypto rewards trickling steadily. Modern sustenance, yes, but nothing compared to this. The idlis steamed perfectly. We sat together, three generations sharing warmth and sambhar. She explained her blockchain work while Amma hummed old Bharatanatyam compositions, two currencies of prosperity. Our heritage feeds more than hunger now.