When The Gods Sleep
A Dhanurmasa Morning with Tiruppavai. Sunday mornings at Aunt Selvi’s house have a predictable rhythm. Someone is always late. Someone is always hungry. And someone—usually Jenny—will press play on the wrong thing. That Sunday, it was Suprabhatam. The familiar opening strains floated out of the speaker just as the coffee decoction reached its dark, fragrant peak. Aunt Selvi was already at the…











