Don't be so friendly 😭

Akshara watched her grandmother reread Kannadasan's verses about distance and belonging. The poet understood something about diaspora that modern life still couldn't heal—how warmth becomes complicated when you've crossed oceans. Back in Chennai, Ma had been everyone's confidante. Here in Melbourne, her gentle nature attracted countless neighbors seeking advice, recipes, borrowed sugar. But nobody remembered her birthday. "Don't be so friendly," her daughter finally whispered, noticing the exhaustion beneath those careful smiles. Yet Akshara recognized the quiet reward—the Tamil songs still humming through their kitchen, continuity stitched through generosity. Some inheritances couldn't be abandoned, no matter the cost.