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The morning in the Iyer household didn’t begin with an alarm clock, but with the rhythmic swish-swish of Amma’s broom against the stone courtyard.

"You miss this in Bangalore?" Priya asked, adjusting her dupatta. The morning in the Iyer household didn’t begin

Inside, the air was a thick, comforting weight of roasted coffee beans and chicory. Thatha sat in his easy chair, snapping open the morning newspaper while his brass tumbler of filter kaapi sent up curls of steam. Thatha sat in his easy chair, snapping open

In their small town in Tamil Nadu, the ritual was sacred. After sweeping, Amma would crouch low, a tin of white rice powder in hand, and pull lines from her memory onto the damp earth. Within minutes, a Kolam —a geometric labyrinth of dots and loops—bloomed at the entrance. It was a silent invitation for Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, to enter, and a snack for the local ants, ensuring the day began with an act of charity. Within minutes, a Kolam —a geometric labyrinth of