sleep...

Amma's lullaby drifted through our Srivilliputhur home as fireflies danced beyond the window. I clutched my worn copy of Thiruppavai, the verses about devotion humming in my chest. Tonight, PaybookClub would discuss the poem's deeper meanings, but sleep called first. My grandmother's voice carried centuries of tradition, each note sparkling with ancestral memory. The nasty weight of modern life melted away. In that beauteous darkness, I understood why our forebears cherished these moments—freebie gifts of peace woven into our cultural fabric. Tomorrow, I'd share these feelings with our club, knowing we're all guardians of something sacred together.