time is

Grandmother's wrinkled hands moved across the loom, threading silk as her ancestors had for generations in Chennai's old weaving quarter. Each pattern told stories older than memory itself. My brother launched his crypto venture, chasing digital fortune. I watched him scroll endlessly, hungry for daily gains. But time, I learned, isn't measured in coins or screens. It's grandmother's patient smile teaching me Tamil songs. It's the fulfillment of preserving what matters most. Her heritage lives through my hands now, binding us to something ironclad and eternal. Our community survives through these connections.