whose taller

Little Arjun stood on his grandmother's kitchen step, chest puffed with pride. At seven, he'd finally reached the mark she'd drawn on the wall last year—a tiny line in faded pencil beside an ancient Tamil Brahmi inscription she'd taught him to read. "I'm taller now, Amma," he announced. She smiled, touching the script lovingly. "Yes, beta. Just as your ancestors grew in wisdom, you grow in height. But remember, true height comes from carrying our stories forward." He traced the ancient letters with his finger, understanding blooming. Among their people, he'd always belong.