vibrates down my spine, and I watch my grandmother fold her hands in prayer. I mimic her movements, walk behind her, and circumambulate the altar. I am nine years old and visiting relatives in Bengaluru, India, from the United States. My mother, grandmother, and I are in a Hindu temple in Malleshwaram, a middle-class neighborhood that is the geographic center of my grandparents’ world. The fragrance of jasmine and champak flowers mingles with the mustiness of the space,
