NEWEST MEMBER OF THE FAMILY

Amma placed the veena in my trembling hands at dawn, temple bells from Srirangam echoing through our home. My grandmother had played this instrument for sixty years, her fingers dancing across strings like prayers. Today, it became mine. I was terrified. The first note emerged broken, uncertain. But Amma smiled, squeezing my shoulder. "Every master was once a beginner," she whispered. Weeks passed. Neighbors gathered on our porch, listening intently. Their nods of encouragement transformed my anxiety into purpose. Through Carnatic melodies, I discovered something deeper—a living bridge connecting generations, a conversation with ancestors sung through my own voice, welcomed into something sacred and endless.