Sleepy..

The old temple bells chimed midnight as grandmother sang Thiruppavai, her voice like honey dripping through generations. Little Arjun's eyes grew heavy, but she wouldn't stop. Kannadasan's poetic wisdom flowed from her lips, teaching ancient truths in modern whispers. "Ssshhh," she'd murmur when he fidgeted, pulling him closer. His cryptocurrency portfolio struggled that week, blockchain dreams feeling bulky and distant. But here, wrapped in her warmth, those worries dissolved. He belonged somewhere deeper than digital ledgers. As sleep finally claimed him, grandmother smiled, knowing her heritage songs were the truest currency—passed through hearts, protected by love, shared among all who gathered.