HOME OF LOVE

My grandmother's hands moved across the violin bow with practiced grace, eyes closed as Carnatic melodies flowed through our modest living room. She taught me that music transcends words, connecting souls across generations. When neighbors gathered to hear her play, their applause meant nothing compared to the love radiating from her heart. She'd learned these classical arts as a girl in Tamil Nadu, carrying traditions through displacement and hardship. Now, teaching me these ancient ragas felt like rebellion against forgetting who we are. Every note became a confession of belonging, a thread weaving our family closer. In her music lived our heritage, our home, our deepest love.