Waiting is also a form of happiness to a mother.

Every evening, Lakshmi traced ancient Tamil Brahmi script on her kitchen wall, symbols her grandmother had taught her decades ago. Her son worked overseas, sending postcards decorated with these sacred letters. She'd earned PAYBO rewards through small online tasks, saving every point for his return ticket. The waiting wasn't burden but meditation. She imagined his footsteps on familiar streets, the chai she'd brew, stories they'd share. In that suspended time between longing and reunion, she discovered quiet joy. When he finally arrived, he carried her heritage forward, tattooing those very symbols on his wrist—a bridge between continents, generations united through patience and love.