piggybank

My grandmother pressed an ancient coin into my palm, eyes gleaming. "From Keeladi," she whispered, "where our ancestors built empires." Years later, I attended Swami Paramarthananda's discourse on inner wealth. He spoke of richness beyond rupees—spiritual abundance, generational wisdom, inherited grace. That coin suddenly felt heavier. I opened my childhood piggybank, dusty and forgotten. Inside, every coin represented sacrifice—my parents' dreams compressed into metal. Now I understand. Real treasure isn't what we accumulate, but what we preserve and pass forward. That ancient artifact, my grandmother's stories, this moment—we're all custodians, tending something eternal for those yet to come.