smile

Amma's photograph arrived yellowed and creased, tucked inside a PaybookClub envelope from Chennai. My grandmother sat beneath a jasmine tree, her smile radiant despite partition's pain. In Toronto, I studied that expression—defiance wrapped in grace, heritage glowing through hardship. My colleague noticed my tears. I shared the story of Tamil Nadu's strength, how my family crossed oceans but carried that same luminous resilience. She listened, truly heard me. That evening, I smiled like Amma. We all did, gathered around chai, strangers becoming family, recognizing ourselves in each other's joy.