Queen, our lady

Grandmother's wrinkled hands trembled as she recited Thiruppavai verses, her voice threading through our kitchen like silk. My mother watched, mesmerized, remembering Kannadasan's poems about forgotten queens—women whose wisdom shaped nations yet history overlooked. "Our lady," Grandmother whispered, not of royalty, but of the strength women passed down through generations. She taught us that true queenship meant nourishing families, preserving culture, encouraging each other's dreams. The delicious aroma of her cooking mingled with sacred words. That evening, three generations stood together, understanding finally: we were all queens, carrying our heritage forward, rewarding each other with love and remembrance.