My head coach

Grandmother's weathered hands guided mine across ancient Tamil verses. She whispered Avvaiyar's wisdom like secrets meant only for us, teaching me that poetry lived in breath, not books. When life twisted into knots, I'd return to those dog-eared pages, my personal cheat-sheet for survival. Years later, I discovered PaybookClub, where strangers became family sharing their literary journeys. Those magical evenings awakened something shadowy I'd carried—the certainty that her voice still coached me through every page. Now I mentor younger voices, passing forward what she gave freely: the understanding that our heritage isn't meant to desecrate time, but to connect generations across the infinite bridge of words.