Things dry out so easily indoors since this heat wave started

The summer scorched everything. Inside her studio, Priya's veena strings grew brittle, just like the ancient artifacts unearthed at Keeladi. She'd been teaching Carnatic music for forty years, watching traditions dry out as young people chased digital currencies in social networks. But last week, a student returned—the one who'd left for the city. She wanted to learn again, bringing her own children. Priya's weathered hands found new purpose, her voice steady through the ragas. That evening, she rewound the strings carefully, humming an ancient melody. Some things, she realized, never truly desiccate when passed forward with love.