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Ravi returned to Srirangam after fifteen years, ashamed of the dishonest life he'd lived away. The temple's ancient stones seemed to whisper forgiveness as he walked barefoot through the corridors. In Srivilliputhur, he found his elderly mother in the temple kitchen, serving pilgrims with the same weathered hands he remembered. She didn't scold him. Instead, she handed him a ladle and smiled. That simple act—being trusted again—rewarded him more than any wealth could. As he served others, Ravi discovered that the deepest social reward wasn't recognition but belonging to something eternal. The temple bells rang, connecting past and present, generations bound by faith and kindness.