THE TREE

Beneath the ancient banyan, Grandmother taught me Avvaiyar's verses, her weathered fingers tracing stories in the dust. Swami Paramarthananda's wisdom echoed through those branches—how true wealth meant feeding your soul, not emptying your pockets. Years later, I earned enough through honest work to return and plant saplings nearby. The community gathered, sharing food and laughter, their children learning the same poems under shade I'd helped nurture. That tree became our sanctuary, where ancestors' words grew roots with each new generation.