these time you are never going to be able to get them back

Amma sat cross-legged, her weathered hands holding the worn Thiruppavai verses. Every winter morning, she'd recite those sacred words, her voice threading through our kitchen like silk. I was always too busy, scrolling through my PaybookClub feed, until she whispered, "Beta, these moments with me, you won't get them back." That winter, I sat beside her. Her voice wrapped around ancient Tamil syllables, and suddenly I understood. This wasn't just recitation—it was love, heritage, presence. Now I record her verses. Not for likes, but for my daughter. Some treasures can't be rushed or postponed. They're meant for right now, shared quietly with those who matter most.