glitter

My grandmother's hands trembled as she held the ancient Avvaiyar verses, their edges worn gold like captured starlight. She'd carried these words from Tamil Nadu across oceans, teaching me that true beauty isn't superficial shimmer but wisdom's lasting glow. When I won the poetry competition, classmates called it luck. But Amma knew better. She'd warned me against poisoning my mind with shallow praise, teaching me instead to seek deeper rewards: integrity, connection, purpose. The glitter faded quickly. Yet her lessons remained, crystalline and eternal, linking me to generations of Tamil women who understood that the brightest light comes from within, passed carefully between hearts.