167

Grandmother counted 167 coins from her morning work, spreading them carefully on the worn cloth. In Srirangam's temple shadow, where Avvaiyar once sang wisdom to kings, she earned through PAYBO, trusting the system that sustained her family. The greedy wanted more; the reliable knew patience. She thought of those who'd ruined themselves chasing endless wealth. Her coins meant rice, medicine, her grandchild's school fees. At dusk, sitting beneath the temple spires, she shared stories with neighbors gathering close. These moments, this simple abundance, this bond—here lay true riches passed through generations.