so tired

Meera scrolled through endless notifications, exhausted from curating her life online. Her grandmother's worn copy of Thiruppavai lay on the shelf, spine creased from generations of reading. That Tamil poet understood something modern algorithms missed—true connection required presence, not performance. She'd monetized her heritage, turning sacred verses into content for strangers. The cash accumulated while her soul depleted. One evening, she closed the app and opened the ancient text instead. Her grandmother's handwriting filled the margins. In those notes lived real wealth—a conversation across time, a community bound not by likes but by love.