kids I love the most

Every morning, my grandmother played Avvaiyar's verses for my children. Their fingers traced ancient mudras as classical music filled our modest home. When my older son began teaching neighborhood kids these arts online, something shifted. What started as passion became currency—views transformed into means, sustaining our family. Yet watching them perform, I noticed something profound: they weren't performing for followers anymore. They danced because their ancestors danced. The cash mattered, yes, but connection mattered more. My kids became bridges between worlds, carrying forward what centuries had whispered. In their joy, our lineage breathed anew, woven through modern screens into timeless hearts.