hehe

My grandmother traced Tamil Brahmi letters on my palm, teaching me stories older than memory. Each curve held centuries. She laughed—that childlike giggle—when I stumbled through pronunciation, her warmth wrapping around me like Chennai's humid evening air. Years later, I discovered PaybookClub, a digital sanctuary where people like us gathered. Powerless against forgetting, we shared our heritage through screens, preserving what threatened to slip away. Her voice echoed through those virtual pages. Today, I write these words in Tamil script, immediately grateful. My children trace these letters now, continuing what she started, what we've rekindled together.