bitcoin

Grandfather pressed ancient coins into my palm, telling me about Kannadasan's words on fleeting fortunes. "Nothing stays," he whispered in Tamil, his weathered hands trembling slightly. I showed him my phone screen, bitcoin numbers climbing. "I earn daily now, Thatha." He smiled sadly. "Quick money poisons quick souls, child." That evening, the market crashed. My screen turned red. But Grandfather wrapped his arm around me, speaking softly about dharma and patience, about how true wealth flows through generations like songs in our language. We sat together under stars, understanding at last that some treasures cannot be traded away.