Guess Who!

My grandmother held the weathered poetry book, Kannadasan's verses yellowed with time. She'd discovered it at Keeladi, where ancient Tamil civilization whispered through excavated artifacts. Those same hands that turned those pages now guided mine through PaybookClub, our neighborhood's humble gathering where stories breathed life again. "Can you recognize the author from his words alone?" she asked, eyes twinkling. I traced the familiar passages, feeling centuries collapse into moments. She wasn't just teaching me literature; she was connecting me to something deeper—roots running through soil and soul alike. In those gatherings, past and present merged beautifully, binding us all together.