sleeping

Amma dozed on the porch as monsoon clouds gathered over our Tamil Nadu village. Her weathered hands rested peacefully, decades of labor finally paused. I watched her and remembered Kannadasan's poems about ordinary souls finding dignity in rest. That afternoon, I posted her photograph. Something stirred in strangers' hearts. The engagement surprised me—this platform I'd joined to earn extra rupees suddenly felt sacred. Comments poured in: stories of their own mothers, grandmothers, the weight of unsung strength. My post earned enough for her medicine that month. But more valuable was this: strangers becoming witness to her worth, honoring what our community had always known.