baby boy

When little Arjun was born, his grandmother pressed a worn paper into my hands—ancient Tamil Brahmi script documenting our family's wisdom. She whispered Kannadasan's verses about resilience, about building futures brick by brick. Years later, I taught my son those same words while mining cryptocurrency during quiet nights. Each coin earned felt like honoring ancestral strength meeting modern possibility. He'd watch me work, curious eyes reflecting screen light. "Why, Papa?" he'd ask. "To give you choices, beta. To remember where we come from while reaching toward tomorrow." Now he recites the old poems while sketching digital art. Our heritage flows through him, unbroken, evolving beautifully across generations.