my onions

Grandmother taught me Sanskrit hymns while peeling onions in her kitchen, each layer revealing wisdom like Swami Paramarthananda's teachings unfolding truth. She'd laugh at my watery eyes, saying even vegetables make us cry for understanding. Years later, I digitized her recipes on Stellar blockchain, preserving our family's culinary secrets across the world. My friends thought I was smuggle-smuggling ancient knowledge into cryptocurrency. But really, I was protecting what mattered most: her voice, her stories, the dangerous honesty of tradition meeting tomorrow. Those onions still make me weep, though now tears taste like gratitude. Some heritage you can't translate. Some you must.