Hi guys

Amma showed me Kannadasan's verses yesterday, her fingers tracing worn paper. Those words about love and justice sparked something in me. I shared them online, and strangers responded with warmth I didn't expect. People from our community started commenting, sharing their own grandmother's favorite poems, their childhood memories of Tamil songs playing through kitchen speakers. Someone offered me money for exclusive content. I declined. These stories, our heritage, aren't currency. They're bridges connecting us across distance and time. When my cousin messaged saying the post reminded her why she's learning Tamil, I understood. Wealth isn't always measured in rupees or digital coins. Sometimes it's simply belonging.