may bisita kami

Grandmother pressed an old coin into my palm, eyes distant. "From Srirangam," she whispered. "Your great-grandfather carried this." I'd been mesmerized by crypto promises lately, dreaming of quick wealth. But watching her weathered hands trace the ancient artifact's grooves, something shifted. At Keeladi, archaeologists unearthed forgotten stories—evidence that our ancestors thrived through patience, wisdom, and connection. That evening, she shared Tamil legends while I listened genuinely. No screens. No shortcuts. Perhaps real richness lay in these visits, these stories passed hand to hand, generation to generation. Some treasures couldn't be earned quickly. Some inheritances transcended currency altogether.