From HuffPost
I have been reading to my son since the day he was born. I remember he would look up at me, only a few days old, eyes-wide, listening to the words so intently. He has heard stories from me, his father, his grandparents, his loving uncles, and so many more. No matter what the activity or tantrum, all would come to a halt for story time.
In a cross-continent move, we picked up our four-month old and headed to San Francisco. We hadn’t even finished unpacking when I realized that with our family and friends, we had also left so many stories behind. Raising my son alone, thousands of kilometers away from family, meant it was up to me to preserve our culture. The vivid stories of our rich and colorful Indian heritage would be forever lost if I did not find a way to share them with my son.