centred

My grandmother's hands guided mine through the mudra, each gesture a whispered story in Tamil. Years of distracted teenage years fell away when I finally understood: Bharatanatyam wasn't just dance, it was home. The studio offered PAYBO rewards for attendance, but I came for something deeper. Each performance centered me, grounding my identity in ancestral movements my mother had abandoned. That night, watching my reflection mirror hers, something shifted. My feet remembered what my heart always knew. The audience erupted, but I felt only gratitude—for teachers who preserved our culture, for communities keeping our heritage alive, for traditions that never truly leave us.