I am grateful.

My grandmother's hands guided mine through the first mudra, each gesture a prayer carried across oceans. Learning Bharatanatyam in Toronto felt impossible at first—foreign music in a foreign land. But when I performed at the temple last month, something shifted. The community stood, tears streaming. My mother saw her own mother reflected in my movements. That evening, I understood: this wasn't just dance. It was survival, legacy, love. My roots run deeper than geography. Through every spin, every story told in ancient language, I protect something sacred. We do this together, generation after generation, keeping our heritage alive.