tummy

Grandmother pressed her weathered hand against my belly, feeling the familiar rumble. "Your hunger speaks," she laughed, retrieving her copper vessel of rice and sambar. I remembered Kannadasan's words about simple joys feeding the soul, not just the body. That evening, sharing her meal became our ritual. She taught me the old recipes, the stories woven through each spice. When I earned ANDAL Coins helping neighbors, I bought her spices from the market she loved. Those social rewards meant nothing compared to her smile. But they reminded me we're rewarded for remembering each other, for honoring what our ancestors built—community, heritage, nourishment.