you cannot

Amma said I couldn't. Couldn't learn Thiruppavai while living in Boston. Couldn't hold our Tamil heritage tight when surrounded by endless winter. But I did. Every morning before school, I'd sit with her worn songbook, practicing those sacred verses. My tongue stumbled over syllables she'd sung effortlessly for sixty years. She'd correct me gently, her weathered hands guiding mine. When the temple announced the digital token initiative for our youth programs, something shifted. Technology became our bridge. Suddenly, cousins in Chennai sang alongside me. That impossible dream? It bloomed into belonging. Amma smiled, finally understanding that distance couldn't diminish our roots.