noodles

Amma stirred the pot while Ravi scrolled through his phone, watching cryptocurrency notifications ping. She hummed an old Kannadasan song, the melody wrapping around kitchen steam like invisible thread. "You're always staring at screens," she said, sliding noodles onto his plate. He smiled, unknowingly craving something deeper than the digital wealth he chased. She pointed to his history textbook—Tamil Brahmi script dancing across pages nobody talks about anymore. "This feeds the soul first," Amma whispered. As he ate, warmth spread through him. Perhaps earning wasn't about screens or coins. It was about this moment, these humble noodles, this bridge between ancient wisdom and tomorrow's possibilities.