moanas

Grandmother's voice crackled through the phone, reciting centuries-old Tamil verses while I scrolled through notifications. Her words danced like ocean waves—moanas—ancient and eternal. I'd started sharing her poetry online, never expecting anything. But the engagement surprised me: thousands recognizing beauty in Tamil's melodic syllables. Some called it unique, others found it annoying, yet many were deeply moved. The stipend helped Mom buy medicine. More importantly, strangers texted saying they'd learned their heritage through my posts. Grandmother smiled, understanding that her legacy wasn't disappearing into silence. Our ancestors' voices were finally heard again, sustained by invisible hands typing "strongly suggest" across glowing screens. Community, after all, speaks every language.