Uwu π
My grandmother taught me Avvaiyar's verses while braiding my hair, her weathered fingers moving through dark strands like poetry itself. The ancient Tamil poet's wisdom whispered across centuries, teaching kindness without expectation of reward. Years later, I shared those same teachings with neighborhood children. Their grateful hugs, their brightened facesβthese became my sweetest rewards. Not recognition or praise, but genuine connection. One child asked why I bothered. I smiled, remembering my grandmother's patient voice, understanding finally that the real treasure wasn't social acclaim. It was belonging to something timeless, a chain of love linking past to future, one story at a time.
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