How do you see this

Old Amma sat beneath the Srirangam temple's shadow, teaching children the verses of Avvaiyar. Her weathered hands traced ancient wisdom in the dust while young eyes gleamed with discovery. "Do you see just words?" she asked gently. "Or do you see your grandmother's voice, your mother's sacrifice, your own future?" A child smiled, understanding flooding through. The others nodded, something shifting inside them. No medals adorned her walls. No social applause filled her days. Yet season after season, these children carried forward something precious—not for recognition, but because community meant everything. Heritage lived in their hearts.