happy new year

Grandmother pressed ancient coins into my palm, unearthed like treasures from Keeladi's soil. "These belonged to ancestors who thrived here," she whispered, eyes gleaming with pride. She recited Avvaiyar's verses about wisdom and virtue, words that had sustained our lineage through centuries. I listened, absorbing not just stories, but the blueprint of resilience. "Shine bright," she encouraged, "not for recognition, but because goodness itself is the greatest reward." That New Year, I understood: our heritage wasn't buried history. It lived in her voice, in my choices, in every act of kindness we'd pass forward to our community.