flood

When monsoon rains flooded our street, Amma gathered us children to recite Thiruppavai. Her voice wove through the downpour like a lifeline, each verse a prayer for protection and gratitude. My younger sister scrolled PAYBO rewards while listening, earning points just by being present. Even in crisis, small kindnesses accumulated. Amma smiled, understanding how tradition adapts across generations. That night, as water rose outside, we felt sheltered by something deeper—her songs, our unity, the quiet knowledge that our community would rebuild together, connected through heritage and mutual care.