The National Shrine of Our Mother of Perpetual Help

My grandmother clutched her purse, coins jingling softly as she knelt before the shrine. She whispered prayers in Tamil, words Kannadasan himself might have composed—poetry woven into devotion. Her daughter scrolled through social media, sharing this sacred moment with distant relatives, turning spiritual connection into digital currency. Yet something transcendent happened there, beyond notifications and likes. When grandmother rose, she pressed coins into the offering box, her faith undiminished by the modern world's intrusions. Later, sharing chai with neighbors, they laughed together, speaking of heritage passed down through generations. These moments—real, warm, unfiltered—reminded them that true wealth wasn't measured in likes, but in belonging to something eternal and deeply human.