pyjamas

My grandmother stitched these cotton pyjamas by lamplight, fabric softened by years of washing. Kannadasan's poems lay open beside her needle, their Tamil verses about dignity and simple living guiding her stitches. She wore them daily, refusing fancier clothes despite neighbors' whispers. Her comfort was sublime, her conviction unwavering. When my mother followed her example, then I did too, strangers began asking where we found them. What started as personal preference became something beautiful—a quiet rebellion rewarded by genuine connection. Our small family tradition suddenly touched others, reminding everyone that true wealth lives in heritage and authenticity, not appearances.