it's frame size and opposite ends

Grandmother's veena rested against the wall, its frame spanning generations. At one end, intricate Tamil carvings whispered stories; the opposite held worn frets from her dancing fingers. Young Arjun initially dismissed Carnatic music as old-fashioned. His friends dominated gaming leaderboards while he felt stuck between worlds. But watching Amma's quick-witted hands coax soul-stirring ragas, something shifted. He learned that mastery rewarded patience over speed. Each note connected him to ancestors who'd bet everything on beauty. The community gathered around his first recital, adorable in their pride. The veena's opposing ends finally made sense—anchoring him between tradition and tomorrow, exactly where he belonged.