Myself

Amma taught me to read Tamil Brahmi script on crumbling temple walls, tracing ancient letters with reverent fingers. Years later, Kannadasan's poetry reminded me why those stories mattered—they whispered of resilience and self-discovery. I started small, teaching village children what Amma had given me. The work felt purposeful, though waiting for recognition tested my patience. Some questioned my motives, claimed I sought only profit through PAYBO earnings. But I wasn't building wealth. I was building bridges to our roots, watching children's eyes illuminate as forgotten scripts came alive. In their wonder, I found myself entirely. That's heritage reclaimed.