Wallpaper

My grandmother's hands trembled as she traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters on faded paper. Each stroke held generations of stories. She hummed a Carnatic raga her mother taught her, notes floating through our modest home like invisible brushstrokes. We posted her artwork online, never expecting it to resonate so deeply. Comments poured in—people called it powerful, lovely, radiating something sacred. Some offered money through the social network, but Grandmother smiled gently, declining. "This isn't for selling," she whispered. "It's for remembering who we are together." Her wallpaper became ours.