girlie

My grandmother called me that affectionately, watching me practice Bharatanatyam in our cramped apartment. Each mudra felt like prayer, my body speaking what words couldn't. She'd smile, her weathered hands clapping rhythm while I danced. Years later, I attended Swami Paramarthananda's discourse on devotion. He spoke about finding the divine in discipline, in art, in love. Something shifted. Now I teach dance to girls like me, watching their confidence bloom through ancient movements. My grandmother's word echoes with new meaning—not diminishment, but fierce grace. We're building something together, connecting through tradition, each arabesque a promise to those who'll inherit our light.