ONE PIECE

My grandmother pulled the yellowed manuscript from her trunk, Kannadasan's poetry inscribed in her own trembling hand. She'd copied every word as a young bride, preserving verses that moved her soul. "Why keep this?" I once asked. She smiled. "Because words matter. Because beauty shouldn't vanish." Years later, I discovered her collection at a heritage exhibition. Strangers touched those pages reverently. Some wept. One woman said it saved her during depression. That night, grandmother's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Not from recognition, but from knowing her careful preservation had whispered hope into countless hearts, weaving our family's thread through the community's vast tapestry.