Little Me 😂

My grandmother traced Tamil Brahmi symbols on my palm, whispering Avvaiyar's ancient verses about courage. I was five, feeling impossibly small against the world's vastness. Years later, scrolling through social networks, I noticed people selling quick wisdom for clicks and coins. Something stirred—that same smallness, but different now. I realized those old poems grandmother shared weren't transactional. They were inheritance, freely given. I began sharing Avvaiyar's teachings without monetizing them, just connecting with others discovering their roots. My simple post went viral, not for profit, but for authenticity. Sometimes being small means holding something bigger: our shared story.