Me and my mother

My mother taught me Avvaiyar's verses while grinding rice at dawn, her weathered hands moving rhythmically as ancient wisdom flowed between us. Years later, I discovered those same poems online, shared by thousands seeking connection. She'd never owned a smartphone, yet her legacy circulated freely in our digital age. When she fell ill, relatives I'd forgotten sent money through apps, our Tamil heritage suddenly bridging distances technology created. Her voice lives in recordings now, reaching cousins abroad. In these moments, I understand that true wealth isn't measured in followers or transactions—it's measured in the voices we preserve and the stories we pass forward together.