Myself

Amma's hands guided mine across the veena strings, each note a thread connecting past to present. The Carnatic melodies flowed through our small apartment like monsoon rains nourishing parched earth. By day, I earned crypto steadily, building my future. By night, I was my grandmother's legacy. She'd watch, eyes glistening, as I learned ragas she'd mastered decades ago. "This is who you are," she'd whisper. Confident yet humble, strong yet tender, I navigated two worlds simultaneously. The grief of nearly losing our traditions faded when I realized: I wasn't choosing between heritage and progress. I was weaving them together, creating something entirely my own, honoring generations while building tomorrow.