Time for breakfast

Amma's idli recipe traveled three continents in my grandmother's memory, now in my hands. Every morning, grinding rice and lentils connects me to Chennai streets I've never walked. My brother jokes I'm wasting time; he's mining crypto between meetings. But these breakfast moments feel like the real currency—heritage served warm on banana leaves. My daughter watches, learning Tamil through taste rather than textbooks. She'll carry this forward, perhaps to her own children. In diaspora, we become guardians of tradition, trading convenience for continuity. Some investments can't be quantified in digital wallets.