meow meow

Grandmother called me to the kitchen where she sat scrolling through videos of street cats. "Look," she smiled, showing me clips tagged "meow meow" gathering thousands of hearts. She recited Kannadasan's Tamil poem about stray creatures finding home anywhere, her voice carrying childhood memories from Chennai. "The internet shares what poets always knew," she whispered. "Connection matters more than coins." That evening, we fed the neighborhood cats together. Her phone buzzed with notifications, but she'd already found something richer: belonging. Our heritage wasn't just preserved in words or screens—it lived in her hands, in our shared moment, in caring for the voiceless.