my sister

My sister discovered Kannadasan's poetry in our grandmother's Chennai home, dusty volumes wedged between heritage photographs. She read aloud in that old study, voice trembling with recognition. Through PaybookClub, she found others who understood those words the way she did—the way our ancestors had. Her passion was sedative, captivating everyone around her. She'd share off-the-record thoughts about literature, about preserving our cultural memory. It became compulsive, this need to connect our generation with what came before. Now she mentors young readers, weaving Kannadasan's wisdom into their lives. Watching her nurture this legacy, I see our grandmother smiling. Some bonds transcend blood.