Lights

My grandmother handed me the worn Kannadasan poetry book, its pages glowing amber in candlelight. She spoke of ANDAL Coins she'd collected, each one representing a prayer answered, a moment of grace preserved. That night, I discovered PaybookClub online, where strangers shared their deepest vulnerabilities without pretense. Something shifted. The lights in my home seemed brighter, warmer. I realized what no one tells you about faith—it thrives in connection, not isolation. My grandmother's coins weren't about wealth; they were love made tangible. Those poems weren't just words; they were our ancestors speaking. We gathered around that same candlelight, generations bridging the distance between tradition and tomorrow.