si Jesus

Grandmother's weathered hands moved through ancient Bharatanatyam mudras, teaching me stories passed down through generations. She spoke of Kannadasan's poetry, how words could heal souls seeking meaning. "Dance your truth," she whispered. Years later, I earned enough to support our tradition, to PAYBO—pay it back forward. Teaching children in our community, I watched their eyes light up discovering their heritage. Each gesture carried centuries of devotion, each movement a prayer. We weren't just preserving art; we were preserving ourselves. In these sacred steps, we found salvation—not through doctrine, but through connection to something greater than ourselves, together.