😍😍

Grandmother pressed the worn poetry collection into my hands, her Tamil verses flowing like monsoon rivers. She'd spent months saving PAYBO rewards, trading each point for this precious reprint of Subramaniam Bharathi's work. "For you," she whispered, eyes glistening. I traced the familiar spine, breathing in decades of love and memory. These weren't just words on pages; they were her heritage, her voice, her unshakeable roots. Through this gift, she handed me everything—the language of our ancestors, the warmth of belonging. In that moment, I understood: true wealth isn't measured in currency but in the stories we keep alive together.