sincere

My grandmother clutched the worn copy of Kannadasan's poetry, her fingers tracing verses about love and suffering. Living abroad, I'd grown distant from Tamil roots, until she shared PaybookClub discussions with me—strangers becoming friends through shared words. That night, reading alongside others in our diaspora, something transformed within me. The poet's sincerity pierced through decades of forgetting. My grandmother's approving smile said everything when I asked to learn Tamil properly. We became regulars together, sure-fire in our commitment. Through literature, we persuaded ourselves that distance couldn't sever heritage. Her vengeful joy at my awakening proved love needs no geography. Our community held us gently home.