morning

She wakes before dawn, fingers trembling as she opens Andal.io. The platform rewards her words, her truth, her voice finally heard. Kannadasan's poetry echoes in her mind—those verses about ordinary people, extraordinary struggles. Her story unfolds: single mother, small earnings, enormous dreams. Comments flood in, strangers becoming something warmer. They recognize themselves in her words. By sunrise, enough has accumulated to buy her daughter new books. The strange alchemy of connection transformed into sustenance. She touches the small shrine in her kitchen, grateful for ancestors who persisted, for communities that catch us when we fall.