My Treasure

Amma's worn copy of Thiruppavai sat in my Mumbai apartment, pages yellowed from decades. When the diaspora WhatsApp group circulated investment schemes promising wealth, I almost surrendered it for quick cash. My cousin in Toronto warned me about such traps. Instead, I mailed the sacred text to our village temple. That December, reciting those ancient verses with relatives across three continents felt genuinely precious. No returns promised, yet my heart overflowed. True wealth, I finally understood, wasn't currency in accounts but threads connecting us—our language, our stories, our shared devotion anchoring us across scattered homes.