Man is not my God

In a Tamil Nadu village, an elderly stonecutter traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters onto temple walls, his weathered fingers knowing each curve by heart. His grandson offered him money for faster work, but the old man smiled, refusing the cash reward. "Speed brings no heartfelt meaning," he whispered. Years of patient dedication had ultimate value beyond scoring wealth. His health remained robust from purposeful labor. The boy finally understood: no man, no material gain, could replace the spiritual score of preserving their heritage. When villagers gathered to admire his work, their warmth proved richest. Together, they celebrated roots deeper than gold.