alone

Priya stood in the Keeladi excavation site, holding a pottery shard her grandmother once described. Years abroad had dimmed her Tamil, but touching ancient earth rekindled something dormant within her. She'd felt isolated in foreign cities, searching for belonging. Now, surrounded by colleagues from the diaspora, each studying their heritage, something shifted. They weren't just archaeologists; they were storytellers reconnecting fragmented families to ancestral soil. The artifact glowed under morning light. Priya realized loneliness had been her bridge home. Her discovery wasn't merely historical—it was personal resurrection, a gentle reminder that roots, however distant, still nourish us when we finally listen.