blessed Monday

Amma taught me Thiruppavai verses at dawn, her voice threading through our kitchen like jasmine. Years later, I recorded myself singing them, posting clips on a platform that actually paid creators. That first payment notification felt sacred somehow. My followers grew—thousands discovering Tamil devotional music. Comments poured in from people reconnecting with their heritage, children learning their grandmother's prayers. What started as monetary gain became something deeper: a bridge between generations. Every Monday, I'd film new verses, Amma watching proudly. The algorithm blessed consistency, yes, but true wealth lived in our shared spiritual awakening, in strangers becoming family through song.