lets drink

Every dawn during Margazhi, Grandmother gathers us around steaming cups of filter coffee. She recites Thiruppavai verses, her voice threading through our kitchen like prayer. My daughter watches, mesmerized, as our heritage unfolds in Tamil syllables and shared warmth. Today, Grandmother earned PAYBO rewards from our local shop, and her eyes sparkle. She buys fresh milk, premium coffee beans, and jaggery for payasam. "Let's drink together," she whispers, pouring with trembling hands. In these moments, I understand that tradition isn't preserved in textbooks but in the simple ritual of gathering, in the love poured into every cup, binding generations across time.