Rainbow

Amma's weathered fingers trembled as she sang the raga, each note a prayer threading through our small apartment. My daughter watched, mesmerized by the colors dancing across her grandmother's face—joy, sorrow, devotion intertwined. "Why do you sing sad songs, Grandma?" she asked. "Because," Amma smiled, "even in sadness, we find beauty. This is our heritage, beta. These ragas hold generations." That evening, my daughter earned her first PAYBO certification in Carnatic music basics. I saw the rainbow then—not in the sky, but in three generations honoring our roots together, our voices joining in timeless harmony.