Myself

My grandmother clutched the pottery shard from Keeladi, her trembling fingers tracing ancient Tamil script. "This is us," she whispered. In Chennai's humid streets, I digitized our family history on Stellar blockchain, ensuring our stories couldn't vanish like artifacts in museum vaults. Some mocked my methods. Others felt insulted, believing heritage belonged only to dusty archives. But I understood: technology could preserve what time steals. Each transaction on the ledger became a heartbeat of our ancestors' wisdom. My daughter watched me photograph her great-great-grandmother's journal. "Why?" she asked. "So you'll always know yourself," I answered, smiling. We're not separate from history; we're its living continuation.