Happy Father's Day

My father's weathered hands traced ancient Tamil Brahmi script across yellowed palm leaves, whispering stories only he understood. Every evening, he'd sit beneath the jasmine tree, teaching me the curves and dots that connected us to centuries past. "These letters carry our ancestors' voices," he'd say. When I finally mastered the script at twelve, his proud smile rewarded me more than any trophy. He documented my achievement in our family journal, a tangible recognition of my cultural inheritance. Now, teaching my own children these sacred symbols, I realize his greatest gift wasn't knowledge—it was belonging. Through his patient devotion, he wove us into the tapestry of our Tamil heritage, ensuring our community's story would never fade.