waiting

Amma stood outside the temple in Srivilliputhur, clutching her phone like a prayer. Her son promised money today, his first transfer through the app everyone used now. The old way—remittances in envelopes—felt safer somehow. She'd waited forty years for prosperity, raising him on rice and hope. Now prosperity arrived through invisible networks, treacherous yet promising. Her grit had shaped him, though distance made everything woozy. The notification chimed. Tears came, not from relief, but recognition. She was building something across generations, something that transcended screens. In this moment, she felt the satisfaction of heritage continuing, strengthened by her sacrifice and their shared Tamil resilience.