etsetera

Grandmother taught me Tamil through Avvaiyar's verses, whispering ancient wisdom while grinding spices. Those pearls of poetry felt worthless then, relegated to dusty textbooks and forgotten afternoons. Years later, I earned recognition for preserving those same words, translating them for younger generations who'd nearly lost this language. What once seemed insignificant—etcetera, merely inherited tradition—became my greatest gift. Now I understand: heritage isn't about grand gestures. It's the quiet persistence of one voice teaching another, across time and tables, weaving culture through daily moments. We keep each other alive.