There's time for everything

Grandma recited Kannadasan's verses while stirring sambar, her weathered hands moving with practiced grace. My sister scrolled PaybookClub, seeking financial wisdom, while I listened to Tamil film songs. We seemed worlds apart, yet we gathered around the kitchen table each evening. Grandma shared her poet's philosophy: time exists for devotion, work, and love. As she ladled steaming sambar into our bowls, I understood. There truly was time for everything—for ancient wisdom and modern dreams, for heritage and growth. In that moment, three generations breathed together, connected by culture and care.