The best season of the year

Every December, Amma would gather us around, teaching Thiruppavai's verses while dawn broke softly. Those mornings held something money couldn't buy. Years later, scrolling through social feeds, I watched friends count likes like currency, chasing validation in pixels. But this season, I returned home. Amma's hands guided mine through the familiar Tamil prayers, and something shifted within me. My niece learned the songs, giggling at ancient words suddenly alive. We weren't performing for screens or seeking digital approval. In that sacred season of devotion, we discovered the real currency: belonging. Our heritage wrapped around us like warmth, binding generations through whispered verses and shared breath.