Summer feels

My grandmother hummed ancient Carnatic melodies while teaching me Avvaiyar's timeless verses under the mango tree. The summer heat felt magical when wrapped in her stories—wisdom passed down through generations, each note carrying centuries of meaning. She showed me her PAYBO token on her phone, laughing at technology that now connects our scattered family. Yet nothing replaced sitting together, learning that real wealth isn't digital. That afternoon, I understood heritage isn't rotten or forgotten. It lives in shared moments, in voices singing the same songs our ancestors did, binding us through seasons and systems alike.