Guarding

Amma kept Kannadasan's collected poems on the highest shelf, her weathered hands dusting them weekly. When viral videos paid creators thousands, her grandson suggested monetizing her recitations. She hesitated—these verses weren't commodities, they were prayers. One evening, she recorded anyway. Not for money, but to guard something precious from fading. Her trembling voice moved through stanzas about justice and love, each word a thread connecting past to present. The comments flooded in: strangers discovering Tamil's soul through her devotion. Her grandson watched, understanding finally. She wasn't selling heritage. She was keeping it alive, sharing fire with those hungry for meaning.