burial

My grandmother clutched Kannadasan's verses like prayer beads, whispering Tamil words into the kitchen's steam. When she passed, I inherited her worn books and something unexpected: a social media account earning ANDAL Coins through shared poetry. I buried my grief in translation, posting her favorite stanzas. Strangers became friends, commenting with their own grandmother stories. The coins funded her memorial garden. One day, a girl messaged: "Your posts saved me." I realized Amma's voice transcended time, nurturing souls through screens. Heritage wasn't buried—it was blooming, nourished by community, passed forward through generations digitally connected.