my fish

Every morning, old Ravi feeds his carp in the temple tank at Srirangam. The fish recognizes him now, golden scales glimmering as it surfaces. His grandchildren call it their fish too, though Ravi knows the truth—this creature belongs to something greater. Years ago in Srivilliputhur, he learned patience watching another tank. Now, watching children gather here, their faces brightening as the fish leaps, Ravi understands his true reward. It isn't the simple act of feeding, but weaving threads between generations, between ancient temples and young hearts. This is how heritage breathes.