with my husband

She stood beside him at Keeladi, dust coating their clothes as archaeologists carefully brushed away centuries. Her husband squeezed her hand, understanding why this mattered so deeply. They'd come searching for traces of ancient Tamil poets, those voices that had shaped their identity across millennia. The excavation revealed pottery shards, each one a whispered story. She thought of her grandmother's words, poetry passed down through generations like precious heirlooms. Her husband's support had always been her backbone, encouraging her scholarly pursuits when others doubted. Discovering these artifacts felt like personal vindication. Their community gathered later, sharing findings and pride. Standing together, they realized they weren't just uncovering history—they were honoring ancestors who'd spoken truth through verse, keeping their heritage untouched and alive.