avacado tree

Grandma's avocado tree thrived in our Srivilliputhur garden, bearing fruit like precious emeralds. My sister called it poisonous jealousy—she'd moved to the city for crypto fortunes, earning digital coins daily while I stayed rooted here. But watching that tree flourish filled me with something deeper than envy. Each creamy fruit became our neighborhood's treasure. Mrs. Patel craved them for her kitchen. Children gathered beneath its branches, laughing. My sister finally visited, holding her ANDAL coins meaningless in her palm. She tasted the avocado, and something shifted. She understood then—real wealth bloomed in ancestral soil, in the bonds we nurture together, in traditions that feed generations.