Good morning

Amma's voice crackled through the phone at dawn. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold, mone." Miles away in New York, I smiled at her ancient ritual. She'd sent chai masala through a PAYBO rewards gift, connecting our kitchens across continents. That small gesture meant everything—her way of saying she understood my diaspora struggles, my homesickness. I stirred the spiced powder into steaming milk, tasting Tamil Nadu in every sip. The sharp warmth reminded me why I'd left, why staying connected mattered. In this moment, I wasn't scattered between worlds. I was exactly where I belonged.