like me and follow me

Grandmother's letters arrived in envelopes, ink-stained and precious. My Tamil poet grandmother lived in Chennai while I grew up in Toronto, our connection fragile across continents. Then social media found us. Her account grew quietly, followers discovering her verses about monsoon rains and lost loves. Brands offered cash for endorsements, but she declined. "Write for hearts," she told me, "not numbers." Her followers became our diaspora—scattered relatives, curious strangers, seekers of Tamil soul. Through her words, I remembered home. We were all just searching to belong somewhere true.