Waiting At

Grandmother clutched her silk saree, waiting at Central Station for the evening train home. Chennai's humid air wrapped around her as vendors called out, their voices echoing through decades-old platforms. She'd spent the day digitizing family records on Stellar, preserving Tamil poetry and recipes in an immutable ledger, ensuring nothing would ever be lost. A young couple rushed past, animated with purpose. She smiled, recognizing that same spark her generation carried. Heritage wasn't burden; it was bridge. As her train arrived, she thought of roots intertwined with innovation, ancestors watching through technology. Community endured.