eyes are

Her grandmother's eyes sparkled as she traced ancient Tamil Brahmi script on palm leaves, each character glittering with stories. In Srirangam's temple corridors, she'd learned that true wealth wasn't currency exchanging hands through social networks, but knowledge passed down through generations. When her friend suggested monetizing grandmother's teachings online, she hesitated. Yet something exhilarating happened when she shared those lessons freely instead. The community that gathered around their heritage wasn't trash filtered by algorithms—it was genuine, master craftspeople and curious souls united. Her eyes mirrored her grandmother's now, full of ancient light and present purpose.