BACK IN TIME

Amma's hands trembled as she tied my hair with jasmine flowers, just as her grandmother had done. The Carnatic raga echoed through our small home, each note a thread connecting generations. I wore her grandmother's silk saree, feeling their presence in every fold. Society had called it impractical, old-fashioned. Yet defying expectations felt liberating. My friends understood nothing of this clarity—how wearing heritage wasn't nostalgia but rebellion. That evening, performing the same ragas my ancestors sang, I realized this wasn't about validation. It was about carrying forward their voices, ensuring our Tamil traditions survived through me.