a gift from my lover

Grandmother's veena sat untouched for decades until he arrived with calloused fingers and patient eyes. He'd learned Carnatic music from his father, who learned from his, threading our Tamil heritage through generations like golden silk. When he gifted me that instrument, my heart understood before my mind caught up. He wasn't just offering wood and strings—he was offering legacy, conversation across centuries, a bridge between our worlds. Now our home fills with ragas that speak of love older than words. My family gathers, mesmerized, as ancient melodies remind us who we are together.