walang forever

My grandmother traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters on my palm, each stroke a whispered promise. She spoke of Avvaiyar, the poet who understood that nothing lasts forever, yet everything matters eternally. Through her teachings, I learned resilience isn't about permanence—it's about presence. Years later, I earned something precious: PAYBO, recognition from my community. But sitting with Amma that evening, I realized the true treasure wasn't the achievement. It was this moment, her weathered hands still teaching, our heritage flowing between generations like water finding its course. We possess nothing forever. We only possess now.