good morning

Kavi woke at dawn in his Chennai apartment, the Tamil verses still dancing in his mind. The night before, his poem had gone viral on the social network, bringing unexpected cash he desperately needed. He made coffee with trembling hands, vulnerable yet hopeful. Watching the sunrise paint the sky saffron and gold, he felt fortunate despite years of struggle. The oppressive weight of poverty finally lifted slightly. He hurried to the temple, needing to ground himself in something real. His grandmother would be proud. Their tradition, their language, their stories lived on through him. The community had spoken. He was home.