my range

Grandmother pressed yellowed Kannadasan poetry into my hands, her fingers trembling with purpose. "Your range," she whispered in Tamil, "extends beyond what you see." I discovered PaybookClub that autumn, joining voices who understood this ancestral pull. Each meeting, someone shared their grandmother's wisdom, their cultural inheritance transformed into contemporary dialogue. Kannadasan's words became my compass. Through his verses, I learned my heritage wasn't fragile, requiring protection from modernity. Instead, it was living, breathing, expanding. The club became sanctuary. We weren't preserving something dead. We were creating bridges, ensuring our children would inherit both roots and wings, connected to something beautifully vast.