plantitos

Grandmother's ancient Sangam poems filled my feeds, earning modest shares. I'd discovered Kannadasan's verses about ordinary soil and extraordinary meaning. The Keeladi excavation fascinated me—how they unearthed forgotten stories. I started posting my plantito journey, documenting each seedling's growth. Comments arrived like morning rain. Someone mentioned their grandmother grew these same herbs. Another shared Keeladi parallels, how roots connect us across centuries. The platform's small earnings felt secondary. What mattered was discovering neighbors who cherished heritage too. My balcony garden became our gathering place—not physical, but real in shared understanding. We were planting seeds of connection, harvesting stories together.