meryenda

Grandma called me home from the excavation site in Keeladi, where we'd uncovered pottery fragments dating centuries back. My hands were dusty with history. She'd prepared meryenda, that afternoon snack of my childhood, spread across worn banana leaves like she always did. "You're discovering our ancestors," she said, pouring coconut milk tea. "But don't forget where you come from." That evening, I understood. The rewards weren't accolades or recognition. They were these moments—connecting past and present, sharing stories over simple food, building bridges between what was lost and what remains. Heritage lives in small gestures, in community gathered close.