My motivation

When I first saw those pottery shards at Keeladi, something awakened inside me. Ancient Tamil Brahmi script whispered across millennia, and I realized our ancestors had already written their stories in stone and clay. My colleagues thought I was mad pursuing this passion, but their skepticism fueled me further. Each symbol decoded felt like recovering stolen breath. The social recognition came unexpectedly—not the reward I sought, but proof that others hungered for this connection too. Standing among those excavation trenches, I understood finally: we're not just studying artifacts. We're listening to echoes of ourselves, rebuilding bridges our community once crossed with such brilliance.