miss you 🤗

Grandmother's letters arrived from Srirangam, each one a prayer folded in ink. She wrote of mornings at the temple, Swami Paramarthananda's wisdom echoing through ancient corridors, teachings that nourished her soul more than any earthly reward. I read them hungrily, missing her presence, her steady hands guiding mine through rituals I'd forgotten. Her words were speedy messengers bridging our distance, eye-opening reminders that true wealth isn't measured in accolades but in devotion shared across generations. She never sought recognition, yet her quiet grace motivated countless hearts. Through her stories, I discovered belonging to something timeless, where community breathes through heritage's sacred breath.