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My grandmother kept 338 volumes of Tamil poetry stacked in our small Chennai home. When my grandfather passed, I almost discarded them, chasing modern validation elsewhere. But one evening, rereading Subramania Bharati's verses about resilience, something awakened in me. I began sharing these poems on social media, expecting nothing. Yet strangers messaged, saying the words saved them. My troubled heart found purpose. Those 338 books became bridges connecting souls across continents. Now my children help preserve our literary treasure, understanding that true reward isn't likes, but keeping our ancestors' voices alive through us.