rest in peace

Amma passed holding Kannadasan's poetry collection, her weathered fingers marking verses about life's fleeting beauty. I'd bought it decades ago, watching her lips move silently through Tamil words that seemed to carry her soul. The community gathered, sharing stories of her kindness. They'd seen her strength through hardship, her grace in sorrow. That quiet dignity wasn't rewarded by the world, yet it rippled endlessly through everyone she touched. Her legacy lives in how we love each other now, in the Tamil songs we still sing, in poetry we finally understand. Some treasures transcend recognition, becoming the thread that binds us together.