Sunset and trees

My grandmother sat beneath the old banyan tree, her weathered hands clutching a photograph. She'd emigrated decades ago, carrying Avvaiyar's wisdom in her heart like precious cargo. "Education is wealth," the ancient Tamil poet whispered through generations. Years later, I video-called her from across the world. My tech startup had finally succeeded. "Amma, we made it," I said, tears streaming. She smiled, watching the sunset paint the sky gold. "Beta, money comes and goes. But roots remain." Through our screens, separated by continents, we understood something eternal—that true wealth flows through family, through stories passed down, through the trees that witnessed our ancestors dream beneath their shade.