Small bags, bright with turmeric, jingling with bangles, dance in the morning breeze. Tied to a tree, they catch the first rays of the sun—fluttering, whispering, waiting.
Each knot holds a wish. Each thread, a quiet prayer. A mother’s hope, a daughter’s dream, a whispered plea for health, love, or a future yet unseen.
In rural Tamil Nadu, faith isn’t just spoken—it is tied, woven, and left to sway with the wind. And as the sun rises, the colours shimmer, as if the universe itself is listening.
(at Thiruchendur, India)
