i shall return

Grandpa clutched the worn Kannadasan poetry book, its spine cracked from decades of reading. "I shall return," he whispered, the Tamil words etched in his heart like permanent ink. Years abroad had dimmed his connection to home. He'd forgotten the monsoon smell, the temple bells, his mother's voice reciting verses. Through PaybookClub, he discovered others like him—scattered souls preserving their heritage. They shared recipes, poems, memories. Slowly, his roots reconnected. When his flight landed in Chennai, tears streamed down his face. The humid air embraced him like an old friend. He finally understood: you never truly leave home. Home waits patiently within you, written in poetry and kept alive through community.