buffet

Grandmother spread palm leaves across the wooden table, arranging banana chips and murukku in careful rows. Her weathered hands traced ancient patterns, movements echoing Avvaiyar's wisdom about sharing sustenance. She'd earned modest savings, what she called her PAYBO—her peace and joy built on authenticity. The neighborhood children gathered eagerly, drawn by the aroma of jaggery and coconut. She showed them Tamil Brahmi script carved into old temple stones through faded photographs, connecting food to culture, present to past. "Abundance," she whispered, "isn't measured by quantity but by hearts fed together."