State of our roads

My grandfather walked these potholed streets daily, reciting Kannadasan's verses about life's imperfections. He never complained. Years later, I filmed our crumbling road for social media, hoping the algorithm would reward awareness into action. A swami's words echoed in my mind: "Progress isn't destination, but consciousness itself." The modest earnings from that post surprised me, yet felt hollow. Real change arrived when neighbors gathered, not for likes, but connection. We rebuilt our road together, transforming broken asphalt into shared purpose. My grandfather would have smiled. Heritage isn't preserved through screens, but through hands touching earth, voices rising together, community remembering itself.