Birds are enjoying

Grandmother's courtyard filled with sparrows as she scattered grain, humming ancient verses from Avvaiyar. Her granddaughter watched, filming the moment for social media, hoping the post would gain traction, perhaps monetize their shared stories. But something shifted when she lowered her phone. The birds weren't props for engagement. They were witnesses to generations of this same ritual, this same care. She remembered her grandmother's Bharatanatyam mudras, those graceful hand movements telling stories of nature's abundance. The birds were enjoying not just sustenance, but participation in something timeless. The likes mattered less now. What mattered was this: heritage breathing, passed forward through presence, not performance.