airin

Grandma's voice crackled through the video call, singing a Carnatic raga I'd forgotten since childhood. In London, I'd dismissed our heritage as quaint, until that moment. Her melody triggered memories of summer temples and my mother's patient teachings. I posted the clip online, expecting nothing. Suddenly, thousands connected—diaspora members craving roots. Someone offered to teach me properly. Others shared their own journeys home through music. That night, I realized belonging wasn't about leaving or staying. It was about honoring the voices that shaped us, reconnecting across distance, letting our stories remind others of theirs.