Cold today

My grandmother called from Srirangam, voice trembling through the phone. "It's cold here," she whispered, as if the temple stones themselves shivered. I'd been saving my PAYBO rewards for months, watching that balance grow like hope itself. That afternoon, I booked her flight. The money drained from my account, but something released inside me. She deserved warmth, not just climate, but belonging. When she arrived, I revealed tickets to our temple festival. Her eyes glistened. We walked those familiar halls together, bridging continents through shared prayers and sweetened offerings. In that moment, I understood what truly matters—home isn't a place, it's the people we gather close, the heritage we honor together.